Two Sparrows, Rising to the Sun
by nolandsman
Summary: Lloyd knew nothing but a life of slavery in the halls of a Desian facility. When a mysterious woman claiming to be his mother helps him slip from his bonds, he is able to see the sky again, and return to life outside electric fences. But that only means he has to face a world that continues to test him—a world that includes the machinations of his estranged father.
1. Prologue

This story ran off with me. It took off like a culprit from a crime scene, dragging my head with it. Consequently it is going to be a lot longer than I'd previously anticipated. So I've decided to split it up into parts, and give it a format more suitable to its anticipated (absurd) length. So here it goes.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

It was disgusting, the way Kratos crawled back to them like a wounded animal. Forcystus thought he had more of a spine than that. But the moron had gone soft, as humans are wont to do.

"There is a lesson to be learned here, I think," Forcystus said, whirling the wine around in his glass. It was a fine white, from the expansive vineyards just south of Altamira. It was a little dry for Forcystsus' tastes, but wine was wine, and he wasn't the type to turn it down.

"What sort of lesson would that be?" Kvar sat across from him, legs folded, monitoring Forcystsus' alcoholic intake a little too closely. He took none for himself. For a second Forcystus considered that the wine might be poisoned—after all, any gift from Kvar was likely detrimental. But if Kvar killed him now it would be too obvious who was culpable.

"I'm still deciding that," he answered, raising the glass to his lips.

"Well, I think the obvious lesson is to never cross Lord Yggdrasill."

"But you have to wonder what sort of ignorance would drive someone to do that. Risk his life like that. Abandon his ideals."

Kvar sneered, crossing and uncrossing his legs. He seemed more fidgety than usual—giddy at this exciting new development, perhaps. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me, no."

"You poor man. I suspect you'll never understand the human condition the way I do. But I'm curious to hear your theories."

Yes, Forcystus had plenty of theories. The least likely and basest was that Kratos had found a skirt to chase, and would risk everything to get under it. The second reason may have been that Kratos had discovered something that none of them knew, and it was so utterly repulsive he had to escape. That was also not likely—he'd been in Yggdrasill's inner circle since that inner circle was drawn thousands of years ago. It may be that Kratos had his own designs to overthrow the ruler of Cruxis and seize power for himself. That, too, seemed out of place. No motive stood out to Forcystus as probable. What was even more puzzling was that Kratos had not only cast himself down from the highest echelon of authority conceivable, he had actually mingled, and worse, _mated_ with the inferior rabble so below him.

"I'm at a loss," Forcystus admitted.

"I guess you'll never know." Kvar seemed to revel in the knowledge that he alone possessed. Forcystus didn't want to give the bastard the pleasure of seeing him beg for information, so he merely stared at him, scowling. Their tense silence marked the end of small talk.

The Cardinals' gazes made their way slowly from one another, through the violet-tinted window and into the sequestered chamber below. Hooked into a hissing apparatus lay a bruised and mangled form that was once a complete woman, now a sorry mess of broken bones and slashed skin. She was breathing, her heart beating, but she didn't have enough strength left in her broken body to truly be considered alive. Her left arm, from the elbow downward, was missing.

"Did you ever retrieve the exsphere?" Kvar asked.

"We couldn't locate it."

"Ha! What a sorry excuse for a Cardinal. You really should have left this whole affair to me." He stood, striding up to the window and looking down at the sleeping woman. "She was, after all, my property. I'm of the mind that you should return her to me. We will all be better off for it."

_Not a chance in hell,_ Forcystus thought. "Given her condition, moving her at all will pose substantial risk to the project. She stays here, for now."

Kver pursed his lips, defeated. "What about the little boy?"

"What about him?"

"Any plans for him?"

"I suppose we ought to dispose of him."

Kvar shook his head. "Keep him around. At least until he's a little older. I've found that fourteen or fifteen is the most advantageous time to implant the exsphere. With his genetics I have no doubt he will produce a superlative product."

Forcystus mulled over his wine, saying nothing. Without invitation, and without taking his eyes from the window, Kvar decided to continue. "Tell me, Forcystus, have you ever tried implanting an exsphere on a child?"

"No."

"I don't recommend it. They can't handle it. How long they last depends on their age. I've never tried with an infant, of course, that would just be a waste of time, but toddlers only last a couple days. Five to ten is a little better. Eleven to thirteen, they last a few months, but their bodies are weak, their minds undeveloped. The exsphere gets no sustenance. It drains what little it can out of them and they dry out like fruit in the sun. You can almost see the stone wring their strength from them. They can't do labor, they can't produce a viable product." Forcystus grit his teeth. Of course Kvar would be the first of the Cardinals to try an exsphere implantation on a human child. "So if you want a good product out of him, save him for later. I'll be happy to take him when he's ready. Show you the ropes on how to make a truly superior exsphere."

Forcystus frowned. Kvar always liked to dangle his little successes over the other Cardinals' heads. They had all tried to fulfill the Angelus Project, but only Kvar had the sheer strength of will to go through thousands upon thousands of subjects looking for the perfect host. The others hadn't the know-how to process so many people in so little time—they mused among themselves on how Kvar found the energy to capture so many, to test and dispose of so many, to turn his entire ranch into a slaughterhouse nearly overnight. The practice was unsustainable, but it didn't have to be. Kvar only had to go through so many thousands before he found the right one.

If it hadn't been for a sudden defection so unforeseeable it seemed to be an act of the gods themselves, Kvar would be Desian Grand Cardinal and have half of Cruxis groveling at his feet for his favor. In a way, Kratos saved Forcystus the indignity of being Kvar's underling. And for that, begrudgingly, he was thankful.

"I wish you the best of luck recovering my project," Kvar said, probably sensing Forcystus' indignation from across the room. "And, as is understandable, I wish to be informed of any developments."

"I'll be sure to let you know how the project is going," Forcystus said. _Only if my life depends on it. _

Kvar flashed him his usual soulless grin, and exited the room, patting Forcystus' shoulder on the way out. Condescending prick.

Forcystus pensively returned to his wine. He took another long look through the tinted window and into the sterilized room below, running through logistics in his head. When he thought he might have everything sorted out, at least for the near future, he absentmindedly skimmed the label on the wine bottle before pouring himself another glass.


	2. I: The Life of L033

I: A Fledgling Among Snakes

* * *

L033 woke up how he usually did—to the ungodly wail of a screeching alarm. He yawned, pushing the ratty sheet off him, and rolled onto his side, hoping to catch a few more winks of sleep before the morning guard came in and dragged them all to the far side of the room for attendance. He had once overheard one of the other children, a girl of about seven years, who had been brought in only recently, laugh at how they called it "attendance."

"It's just like at school," she had said.

L033 did not know what school was. When he asked her about it, she just stared at him for a second, then burst into tears.

She was a strange girl. She, unlike most of the children there, remembered her human name. The other kids would sit around her and ask her to repeat it, and repeat the names of her family and friends. She would, so often and so consistently that L033 did not know which one of the hundreds of names was hers. But every name had a ring to it that all the children found attractive, perhaps because the whole idea of a name held a sentiment they had been denied at the ranch—identity.

Some of the children had been born in the ranch and never had names of their own, so they sat in idle fascination at her recitations of formal names, nicknames, first and last names, pet names, place names.

L033 never had a name. Not that he remembered, anyway. According to some of the older kids, he had been brought in when he was a toddler, so he knew that he hadn't been born in the facility. That's all he knew about himself, and about the outside world. He knew it existed, and that he had once been out there. He supposed that he had once had a name out there, but in here it was different.

The girl with the lists of names had been captured with a few other children just a few months ago. Most of them had been weeping, some begging for mercy or release, when they had been shoved into the metal-walled sleeping chamber. They did not know what it meant; they did not know whose cots were whose, where they were, how long they would be there. And they never would—it was a realization every child came to if given enough time. Eventually they would all get over that fact one way or another.

One child that had arrived with the girl, an overweight little boy with strawberry blond hair, kept crying that he could not sleep on these staw-filled cots, that he had allergies and needed medical attention. He kept claiming that somewhere in his bag—that had of course been taken from him upon arrival—was a device that assisted him with breathing. He begged the guards to bring it to him, but they ignored him.

On his first night, his feeble wheezes could be heard echoing throughout the Block C sleeping chamber. Some of the other children yelled at him from their own cots, telling him to shut up and let them sleep. Others said nothing, just listening to him struggle to breathe in, breathe out, knowing there was nothing they could do for him. Until they grew up and could work, the Desians offered little in the way of medical care. The children were not valuable enough to waste important resources on them.

In the middle of his second night, the wheezing boy passed away. His breathing became shallower and shallower, and then, a few hours after they were all put to bed, it stopped. L033 could tell that every child was awake at that point. They had grown so used to his tortured breath that the sudden silence hit their ears as hard as a loud noise. They all woke up, some of them sat up to look over at the dead boy, but nobody got out of bed. They weren't allowed to.

Some of the children managed to get back to sleep, some of them stayed awake until morning, when the guard came by for attendance, found the boy dead, and disposed of him. The girl who had come to the ranch with him, the girl with the cache of names, had not taken the loss too hard.

"He's probably better off that way," was all she said. She carried a long face with her for the next little while, and didn't say much. But, like everyone else, she learned to forget the dead and focus on keeping alive.

That was a while ago. How long, L033 could not tell. Time was a strange thing in the ranch, mostly because the children never saw the sun. They never witnessed the seasons turn or the clouds pass overhead. L033 could not even remember what the sky looked like, even though he was sure that he had seen it. When he imagined the sky, he only imagined the ceiling of the sleeping chamber, low to his head, painted blue. He could not conjure even the idea of anything so vast as the real sky.

If the boys and girls of the ranch survived their childhoods and turned fourteen or fifteen, they were able to move out of the cramped room and work in the yard outside. Some of the children referred to it as "graduation" and it was something all of them looked forward to. As soon as they gave you your exsphere, you got to go outside, and the mere thought of escaping the cramped halls of the facility made the children behave. It made them put up with the gruel they called food, the beatings, the cruelty and the hours and hours of dangerous work—just for the chance to see the sky again.

The children's tasks varied according to their stamina and talents, and their ability to tolerate certain conditions. The weakest children, the children with no skills, or those who had come to the ranch later in life and did not have the guts to survive other tasks, were given the responsibility of keeping the interior of the ranch clean. They trudged through the halls with mops and sponges and caustic cleaning agents, scrubbing the walls and floors and polishing the shoes of passing Desian guards. You could tell those children by the state of their hands—usually the skin was bleached white, dry, peeling. Some of them had worn their skin down to the bone.

The toughest of the children were given work hauling cargo from block to block. They were often seen slouching under several huge boxes, full of fresh food for the Desians, and packaged, dehydrated protein for the prisoners. They carried mechanical equipment, cases of weapons, supplies, even the corpses of their unluckier comrades, from room to room—from the kitchen to the mess hall, from the sleeping chamber to the crematorium, from the loading bay to the Cardinal's quarters. This work mostly befell the older kids, those boys and girls who were closer to graduating age, who had the strength and endurance to lift and carry heavy things for hours on end. Their strength was usually praised by their Desian supervisors when they went into the medical wing to have the exsphere implanted. Then they were never seen again.

L033 was one of the children who had been tasked with something between the two extremes. Because he was dextrous, lean, and small for his age, he and some other kids managed the electrical systems on the interior of the building. Every morning, after their usual meal of gruel, L033 would be set loose inside the walls of the building like some hairless, barefoot rat, to seek out and repair any faulty wires in the system. It wasn't pleasant work. One boy recently had his hands burnt by a stripped cable, and another had shocked himself to death trying to pry a blown fuse from its circuit. It had taken a few days for them to find his body, and even then it was only because they were able to follow the trail of his excruciating stench. After they had dragged him out and sent his body to be burnt, the overseeing Desian Lord, Forcystus, issued insulating gloves for the children to use while they worked.

Forcystus' decision had been met with criticism from quite a few of his underlings, or so L033 heard from the older children who were prone to overhear the juicer bits of internal politics at the ranch. They had thought his decision too merciful, they feared that the would spoil the children. They had insisted that the those kids who were equipped with enough strength and cunning to survive childhood—without the privilege of safety gear—would make better workers when they grew up. It would bring down the ranch's average work quota, they said, to help children survive who were not fit. Forcystus could not be swayed. He said it wasted money to waste lives.

L033 was not displeased with the development. He had quite liked the boy who died earlier that month. He did not want to lose more company. Whenever he put on his gloves and goggles and descended into the cramped inter-hallways of the ranch, he would remember that boy. He had an odd way of smiling—and he liked to play games while at work, games that the guards would not pick up on. He would leave little messages on the inner walls for L033, etched into the metal with his electric welder. They were drawn with a clumsy, almost playful haste: an arrow here, a circle there, a cross or a smiling mouth (neither boy were taught to read, so they had to settle for broader symbols). L033 took these shapes to heart and sometimes reciprocated the courtesy by leaving a small burn mark or two behind him when he went from one crawlspace to another. Now that the boy was dead, there would be no new messages. But L033 could still look for those tiny shapes in the walls that he had missed before. It would be like he was still there.

He almost looked forward to work that day—thoughts of his old friend set his spirits higher than usual. He would try to slack off as much as he could, searching the walls for marks instead of faulty cables. But after the guards lined up all the children to make sure none of them died or escaped during the night, he was not handed his usual equipment, he was not led out into the hall and stuffed into the trapdoor that led down to the innards of the facility. Instead, when all the other children were dismissed, he was commanded to stay behind. As the other children filed out, herded between the guards, some shot him frightened or sympathetic looks. When the door closed behind them and he was shut alone in the sleeping chamber, he tried to figure out why he had been chosen to stay behind that day.

Being singled out could mean several things. It could mean that he had done something well and may receive a piece of fruit or buttered bread as a reward. Since he hadn't done anything particularly extraordinary recently, he discarded that possibility. It could mean that he was a candidate for early graduation—although, at the ripe young age of eight, that was not likely at all. So, the only possibility left was that he was to either be punished for his wrongdoings or exterminated altogether. He shivered. If a child became too sick, or too rebellious, he or she would simply disappear. No questions were asked when this happened, because none needed to be asked. General consensus was that the child was shot and sent to the ovens.

L033 began to panic, searching through his past transgressions, trying to single one out that would necessitate his execution. Perhaps they had known about him and the other boy leaving shapes in the insides of the walls. They had an uncanny way of knowing everything that went on—yes that was it—he would be amply punished, then let go. They couldn't kill him for _that_, it wasn't that bad, not as bad as trying to escape or inciting a mutiny or stealing food or anything…

His desperate mind trampled through the list of possible punishments. Usually beatings were the most common, and the most manageable. Many of the physical punishments were half-hearted, either because the guards had a sliver of mercy for a wailing, bleeding child, or they simply thought that flogging a creature so weak was not worth their time. Either way, L033 had been hit many times, and recovered as many, so he could handle that eventuality. Starvation was a crueler, more insidious tactic they used… along with prolonged isolation. He had never experienced these punishments, and hoped that neither was was in his near future.

When the Desian guard reentered the chamber, he didn't have the courage to ask which punishment he was to receive. The guard did not seem to care. He simply grabbed L033 by the upper arm and roughly led him toward the door.

"The Grand Cardinal wants to see you… for some reason." He added the last bit indignantly, as if he knew that this weak little human boy was not worth his commanding officer's time.

L033 had never personally seen Grand Cardinal Forcystus, but he knew that this wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.


	3. Talk of Transfer

L033 was escorted through the halls of the facility in silence. The Desian whom he followed said nothing, and he knew better than to ask. Asking anything was a surefire way to get smacked.

They turned a corner and he spied a few children at the end of the hall, kneeling, scrubbing the floor. They looked up at him as we walked by, following him with dull eyes. The boy with the mop gave L033 an encouraging nod. The girl on her hands and knees with the sponge was colder—apparently she was a little more realistic about what a lone child following a Desian guard meant. Her glance was blank, brief, and lifeless.

"What are you looking at?" the guard growled at them. "Back to work."

The two lowered their gazes back to their cleaning, and L033 passed them without a word. He simply fell in line behind his guide as they made their way to the elevator, up a few floors, and stepped out into the spacious halls of the Cardinal's private floor. L033 had never seen this place, and he did not know what to make of the rug under his feet, the paintings on the walls, or the wooden beams decorating the high ceiling. He did not have time to stop and examine every interesting thing he saw, since the Desian guard dragged him down the hall without slowing down. They stepped up to a door at the end of the hall, and the guard slid it open and pushed him inside. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the door close behind him and lock.

The room was large, spacious, with a red carpet and a window behind the far desk, looking down on some room—L033 was not tall enough to see through. There was something like a pink fog clouding its glass, but he could not tell what it was.

Two men looked down through this window, but turned when they heard him enter. Both were obviously high up in the Desian ranks, but he could not tell which was Forcystus. He bowed his head anyway, as he was instructed to do when greeting a superior being.

"He's polite," the nearest Desian said. He had a noble bearing, slicked blond hair and a sharp mouth. When L033 looked up to meet his gaze, he found it so intense he had to look back down at his feet. He knew he shouldn't have looked up anyway, but he had never been called "polite" before. He didn't even know what that word meant. He just stood and shook a little, wondering if he was going to survive this ordeal.

"He's trembling like a field mouse!" the blond Desian laughed. "Come here, boy."

L033 had no choice. He stepped up to him, eyes fixed on the carpet. The other man watched the scene carefully, his one uncovered eye filled with distaste.

"Gods above, Forcystus, what have you done to him? Look at his hands!" He grabbed the boy's wrists and held them up to Forcystus. They were scarred and darkened with years of chemical and electrical burns, covered in tiny scrapes from sharp, stray wires. "Are you trying to destroy him? And look at his face, you can see all his bones! This will not do. Not at all."

Forcystus let out an annoyed grunt as the blond Desian knelt and proffered L033 a small object. It took him a second to realize that it was an apple—a whole apple! At first he didn't know what to do with such a treasure, except reach out and take it tentatively from the man's gloved hands.

"When you're at my ranch, you will not be so mistreated. We will put some fat on those little cheeks of yours."

"Kvar," Forcystus started, "you have, for the thousandth time, proven to be an astoundingly barefaced liar."

"It's a gift," Kvar replied, standing and facing Forcystus.

L033 wiped his apple on his shirt and held it close to him, not daring to take a bite. He had heard Kvar's name before, from the other prisoners. They had few good things to say about him.

The two Desians ignored L033 for a moment to continue their conversation. "I'm still not sure why you're here, given that he is not your property," Forcystus said.

"Oh, I have the paperwork all set up. It seems that I am far more trustworthy to produce results than you are, with your… untoward practices."

"Mercy is considered untoward now?"

"Quite so, my friend. Sometimes I wonder how you got caught up in this prestigious business to begin with."

"You and me both." He paused for a moment, glancing over at L033 briefly. "I have not received notice that the boy, or that woman, will be transferred to the Asgard facility."

"A whole mess of your flock is going. It seems that Lady Pronyma has decided you have too much work on your hands. They're downgrading the ranch and placing the excess personnel and product in my care. I decided to pop over for a visit and have a look at the crop myself. I am not pleased. The whole place is in a state of disrepair."

Forcystus could not hide his furious grimace.

"And because we are transferring two people of interest, it's better if they come with a group, is it not? We don't want a certain member of the Seraphim to find out what we've been doing down here."

With that, Kvar turned back to L033, and his smirk gave way to a curious frown. "Boy. Why aren't you eating?"

L033 swallowed, trembling. "I'm… saving it for later."

"The children like to share their rewards," Forcystus said.

"How do you incentivize them when they're dishing out their prizes to those less deserving? This is why I don't keep children anymore. More trouble than they're worth." Again, he knelt to look L033 in the eye. "At my ranch you will be the only little boy there. You'll have all the fruit to yourself."

L033 could not stop himself from grinning. "Will I be able to go outside?" he asked, without thinking.

"Every day. Now, eat your apple. I want you to finish all of it."

So L033 bit into the shining skin, letting the juice fill his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. While he crunched his way through the fruit's grainy meat, bit by bit, swallowing even the stem and core, Kvar and Forcystus continued their conversation.

"So, I expect to transfer the lot of them within the next few months."

"A012 can't go. She's still comatose."

"You are a bad fibber, Forcystus. I have my little sparrows here and there. They tell me many things. They say she has been groaning in her sleep for the past few weeks. They say her eyelids flutter."

Forcystus grit his teeth, no doubt preparing a reply, when a wail echoed through the room, shaking the glass and killing the two Desians' conversation. It was a wail filled with such surprise, such familiar sorrow, that L033 could not help but tear up. He tried to keep himself from crying, but he couldn't choke down every sob that inexplicably came trembling up from within him.

Forcystus turned and gave him a complicated look. Fear, regret, a little pity. It was a look human boys did not usually get from Desians.

Kvar, however, sported a grin that seemed to dominate his whole face. "Comatose, you say?" He laughed and walked toward the door. To the little boy's great consternation, Kvar took his hand and led him out of the room. "Good day, Forcystus. We will be meeting in the very near future. Very near." Forcystus just stood behind his desk, fuming.

Out in the hall, Kvar patted L033 once on the shoulder. "We will be meeting again as well. I look forward to it."

L033 could not help but answer, "Me too." Kvar gave him a thin smile and turned. L033 had expected to be hit for his outburst, but he should've known better. Kvar was a kind man. He had given him an apple, had shown concern for his well-being, he had taken him out of that frightening room with the shadowy window and the harrowing cry beyond it.

A Desian guard came to fetch him as Kvar walked away. L033 stared at his back, wishing he could follow the man. He knew that Kvar was his friend, the man who was going to take him away from this place and lead him to a better one.

The other children who had been transferred said that Forcystus' ranch was by far the least painful one. No matter which facility they came from, they all agreed that things were better here than they were elsewhere. But L033 had never met any children from Kvar's ranch. They knew nothing about his practices, but they had stories.

"He likes to cut off arms and legs and sew them back on the opposite side," one boy had said years ago. "My dad told me."

"He eats people for breakfast," a girl from one of the southern ranches had insisted.

"At that ranch, they drain your blood and replace it with acid. No one lives through the first day."

Yes, L033 had heard many tales. But he knew none of them were true. Kvar had been kind, he had been clever and generous and had promised L033 a better life in the future. He was going to let him go outside_._

He could not wait for his transfer.

* * *

The first sensation to greet her when she awoke was a searing, excruciating pain, crawling its way up her left arm. She tried to pull her arm away from whatever was burning her, from whatever was peeling her skin and crushing her bones. The pain made its way up her arm in sharp snaps, from the tips of her twitching fingers to the crease of her elbow. She moaned, trying to move her arm, but she couldn't.

Then she remembered—yes, it was the exsphere… It had…

The memory slipped past her mind and she couldn't catch it.

She did not remember when or how, but the they had done something to her exsphere. She had been living in agony for so many days, then it… then she…

She let out a pained groan, trying to open her eyes. Where was her husband? Where was her son? Surely she'd find them on the other side of her unopenable eyelids, hovering over her, worried. What had she done to herself that made her twist and turn under the pressure of such pain? What had she done to make herself so exhausted that she could not even open her eyes?

She lay there in helpless silence, trying to piece together memories of recent events, but each image or sound that she could muster from the depths of her brain was abstract, impenetrable. She could not link one event to another, she could not clear the blurry and frustrating scenes that flashed through her mind.

So she focused on merely moving her own body. She started with her eyes, and struggled to pull them open. She found it to be a hopeless pursuit, so she tried moving her fingers instead. She turned her attention to her right hand, since her left was helpless in its agony—she figured it might have been paralyzed somehow. So she spent what seemed like hours trying to lift her hand, trying to raise it over to her face so that she might manually pry her eyes open.

It seemed that the only control she had over herself was her breathing. So she took in long, steady breaths, trying to imagine the muscles inside her at work, trying to reconnect her body to her unhinged mind. She held her breath, she released it. She took short breaths, long ones, she sucked air in, held it, sucked more, released. She managed to open her mouth and close it again, her jaw flexing, sore and tired. She let the air flow alternately between her nose and mouth—in with the one, out with the other, in with the other, out with the one. It was difficult work.

When she was sure she could breathe at will, she tried to swallow, and after a while, she managed that, too. Then came twitching the corners of her mouth, then came moving her nose… then came her eyelids. The damnable things were so heavy with sleep and exhaustion that she had to raise her eyebrows as high as she could to get them to even crack open.

Once that pathetic sliver of dim light glowed in her vision, it was easier to invite more. Her eyes begged for light, and slowly, very slowly, she was able to force them open. She blinked, trying to to clear her blurry sight. She could not tell where she was or how she got there, all she could see was a sheet of opaque glass above her—or at least, it looked like glass.

She glanced around, but she couldn't see much. She could not yet move her head to look around, so all she could see was that vaguely pink blur above her. She swallowed, forcing her neck to turn slowly.

It creaked like the rusty hinges of a long-abandoned machine, sending quick shots of pain down her back, all the way to the bottoms of her feet. She turned her neck to her right, saw her arm laid beside her, bent slightly. Now that she could see her fingers, and the muscles on the inside of her abnormally skinny arm, it was easier to force them to pull taut. She watched her hand clench and unclench, strings of tendons moving slightly, muscles flexing and relaxing. It was strange to her, to have so little control over her own body. She practiced moving her right arm until she could lift her fist in the air a couple of inches—she was too weak to go any farther.

Then she forced her neck to creak over to her left side, and saw that below her elbow, where her arm should be, there was empty air. Memories came flooding back to her—the glint of a metal blade as it forced its way through her flesh and bone, her own screams and those of her infant son, the cold, shadowy face of her husband as he drew the sword away from her severed limb. She remembered the pain, the fear, the confusion, and against her will, her throat tensed up and pushed out a burst of air. She opened her mouth, and with a voice hoarse and volatile with disuse, she released a tortured wail.


	4. The Outside World Creeps Closer

"It's true! He says that I get to go outside." L033 could not help but brag about his sudden improvement in circumstances.

"That's nothing," one of the other boys said. "When you get transferred they march you through the wilderness all day and all night. By the end you just want back inside."

"Yeah, you get diseases and stuff out there," an older girl put in. "I know, because when I came from the Palmacosta ranch, my friend died of some sorta sickness. She didn't have it in the ranch. She must've caught something."

"Yeah, well, when I get to the new ranch, I'll get to go wherever I want," L033 said desperately. The other children laughed at his obvious lie.

In the few minutes of free time they had after work and before the lights went off and a night guard came by to check on them, the children liked to sit and talk. They had little time to speak to one another in the evenings, so these moments were especially precious. It provided them an opportunity to discuss the events of the day—who misbehaved and got punished, who died, who graduated. It was important for them to talk about things while the memories were fresh in their minds, since by the following evening, exhaustion would've wiped their heads clean of any gossip.

L033 took the window of free talking time as an opportunity to convince others (and himself) that he was off to a better place. Most of the other children on the cots surrounding his didn't buy his story about how Kvar himself gave him an apple, and commanded him to eat the whole thing.

"You just didn't want to share any with us," a girl said.

"He didn't give you an apple at all!"

"You're such a liar."

"Am not!" L033 was getting tired of having to convince others of what was so obviously the truth. "Why do you think I got brought to Forcystus' office and came back alive? They didn't do anything to me. They _liked_ me."

"Yeah, they liked the way you looked," commented an older boy from halfway across the room. He had certainly not been invited to the conversation. "Did Kvar touch you, you know, down there? I heard he does that to little boys."

"No," L033 answered. "Why would he?"

"Oh," the boy smirked evilly, "you'll find out once you get to his ranch." A burst of obscene laughter came from the older kids' cots. It was loud enough to catch the attention of the night guard, who slipped open the viewing window on the steel door to the sleeping chamber.

"You bastards get to bed, or I'll beat your asses," he commanded, before sliding the narrow window shut and turning off the lights.

The children knew not to get up and move around after they'd been put to bed. Throughout the night, Desian guards came and checked in on them, and if they found any kids up and about they were in for a thorough beating. So L033 lay down in his cot, pulled the itchy sheets over him, and tried to go to sleep.

Every night, a few hours after they were put to bed, a guard would come by and take attendance. He or she always walked by lamplight, carrying a checklist attached to a clipboard, so that each and every individual sleeping in the chamber could be accounted for. L033 figured this was to make sure that nobody escaped in the night, or decided to wander the halls. Some kids, especially the ones in their early teens, had a habit of trying to find different ways to sneak about and frustrate their supervisors. Sometimes they would simply visit each other's cots, jump under the covers, and whisper all night. Once or twice, L033 heard them make noises that were not possibly conversations.

When that happened, L033 felt bitterness rise in him. An older girl had told him that these undercover visits were how babies were born in the ranch. When a new baby arrived, grew for a while and joined the ranks of children in Block C, they had another mouth to feed and there were fewer leftovers for the rest of them. Not to mention another human being was forced to live his or her entire childhood inside the facility, slaving away—but it seemed that L033 was the only one who delved that deep into the moral situation of it all. Most were concerned about the limited supply of food, and in truth he couldn't blame them.

That particular night, none of the children seemed to have the urge to visit one another or whisper softly across the small spaces separating their cots. It may have been that they had already been yelled at once that night, so the officer in charge of coming in and checking on them would likely have no patience for misbehavior.

Usually L033 was asleep by the time the night guards came around to check up on them. Each child had his or her number tattooed on the skin of the foot's tender arch, so that the supervisor could account for all of them without having to take the time to wake them up and wrestle their numbers from them. The guard could lift up the sheet, briefly glance at a twitching foot, and check the individual as present. Sometimes, if the child slept curled up, the guard would have to drag his or her foot out into the dim light to read it, but for the most part, the children slept on undisturbed.

That particular night, L033 was still awake by the time the night guard came by. He just lay still as the man moved the sheet, noted his number, and moved on. He tried to make himself go to sleep, but he couldn't. He ran through scenarios over and over in his head—he would exit the walls of the facility, and look straight up to the sky. He would remember how far away it was, how big it was. He would not look away for days, and see if there was a difference between the skies of night and daylight. He would have an apple every day. He wouldn't have to crawl in the walls like some sort of rodent, splicing wires and cutting cords, changing fuses and carrying out the debris that obstructed the electrical conduits of the facility. He would get to go outside… he would feel the ground, the_ real ground_, under his feet, and he would take off his shoes…

He would run… he would look up at the sky…

He was still furiously thinking of his future when sleep overtook him.

* * *

She could not see the door slide open, but she heard its familiar hiss. She was no stranger to the usual sights and sounds of human ranches. She knew the make of the doors, knew their every squeak. She could differentiate the smell of an approaching prisoner from that of a guard. She could hum the exact note of the buzzing electric fences in her sleep. She knew the materials of the walls, she knew the inner workings of the elevators, and thanks to the noble efforts of her husband, knew the general layout of each ranch. He had taken precautions. He had prepared her for this eventuality. It was almost as if he knew she would end up back here…

She put him out of her mind and focused instead on the footsteps that approached her. She tried to turn her head, her neck sending pangs of pain down her back. She managed to twist it enough that she could peer through the glass at the man standing on the other side. She was afraid, for a moment, that she recognized him as a man she never wanted to see again.

The man's blurry arm extended and touched an electrical box on the side of the glass, and it slid away. As she took in the man's face, she realized with a wave of relief that he was not Kvar.

"You're awake," he said.

"I noticed," she replied. Her voice was hoarse and weak, since any strength in her vocal cords had been wasted on the surprised cry she released when the discovered her missing limb.

The man smiled at her, but not in the cruel way she would expect from a Desian. Obviously, he was high up in their ranks. She wondered if he was a Cardinal, and went through her head of the ones she hadn't met, of the ones that her husband had told her about… Magnius of Palmacosta, Rodyle from the remote island ranch, Lady Pronyma… this man was obviously none of them. He must be Forcystus—yes, the eyepatch told her as much. He was without his famous arm cannon, but she figured he was smart enough to leave the explosive weaponry outside.

"You may notice some weakness, and some difficulty moving about. The medical staff will assist you with that for the first few weeks."

She did not know what to say. She certainly couldn't thank him. She wanted to ask him about how she ended up in this mysterious chamber, where her traitor of a husband had run off to after he cut her down and abandoned her to the Desians, what happened to her child…

"Where is my son?" She tried to sound strong. Her voice, usually so deep and smooth, had a way of sounding uncompromising. Her questions were demands, her words were always bold, intentional, and never unsure. Now that her voice was out of practice, she just sounded sick, old, weak.

"He's fine. He's alive."

She relaxed a little. "When can I see him?"

A look crossed Forcystus' face that she could not interpret. "That's not possible. At least not anytime soon."

To her great discomfort, he sat down beside her, at the edge of the cushioned apparatus in which she lay. She did not want to be so close to a Desian, especially a Cardinal, but she could not move, she couldn't withdraw any limbs… he was sitting exactly where her arm would've been had it still been attached to her. She briefly wondered if it was still out there, its exsphere glowing blue, bleeding in the dirt where her husband had left it.

"How long… how long have I…"

"Five years."

She closed her eyes and sighed. Five years. Gone. Her son must be about eight by now, and she had missed him grow into a boy. She had missed everything, slept through everything. All because of that man…

"Look, Anna. May I call you that?"

She reluctantly nodded.

"Kvar, whom I'm sure you remember, even after all your trauma, is here at my ranch. He's a pest, an invasive parasite I cannot get out of my hair. And he's here for you, and your son."

Anna let out a stifled sob. That was the last thing on earth she wanted to hear.

"As soon as you recover, he will take you to his ranch, where he will try to recreate the Angelus Project. I assume he'll use your other arm. I also assume that when your son comes of age, he too will become an integral part of that project."

"Why… why are you telling me this?" Anna croaked.

"Because, I want to prevent that happening as much as you do. Don't get me wrong, it's not out of consideration for your life or your son's. Do not give me that much credit. You are both invaluable. I'm not going to give you up so easily. Besides, Kvar has had his day of glory. It's time for mine."

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded slowly. "I see."

"He knows you're waking up. It would help me greatly if you could lose a few faculties. Go insane, recover slowly, regress—I don't care. Just until I find a way to counteract your transfer to his ranch. This is mutually beneficial, so if you want to keep your son away from that madman, you'll do as I say."

"I understand." She craned her neck as he stood up and made for the door. "What do I do?" she asked after him. "How do I convince Kvar I'm not fit?"

He turned. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You were an actress before this whole mess, weren't you?"

"How did you know that?"

She could barely make out his white-toothed smile in the shadowy room. "I know everything." With that, he left her alone, with only the sounds of hissing machines to keep her company.

* * *

L033 regretted having stayed awake the night before. When he was handed his tools and gloves and shoved through the trapdoor into the darkness of the halls-between-halls, he considered curling up on the dusty floor and sleeping the whole day. Unfortunately, he had to report back with a collection of spent wires and blown fuses, of burn marks and dust in his hair, or else he would be accused of slacking, or worse, attempted escape. Then he would be tied to the wall and whipped. He had only seen one other child go through it—for trying to climb out a window—and she couldn't move for days afterward. No, he would sleep well that night. For now, he had to work.

He fastened his goggles to his face and crept through the dusty dark, searching for the spark of a broken wire or the smell of a melted fuse. There were plenty of things that could damage or destroy the electrical equipment in the depths of the ranch—hungry rats chewing through insulation, overheating or overuse (the key card readers in particular had a bad history of breaking, but they could often be fixed with a smack or two from the inside of the wall), dust clogging the gears, corrosion, bug infestations. Just last week L033 had found a wasp's nest of all things nestled between a broken cog and a bundle of wires. That was not a fun day.

Today he was on the lookout. He wanted to find a few marks left behind by the dead boy. Today he would crawl to the upper levels—he never went up there much, but the other boy had. He'd probably find a treasure trove of circles and squares and arrows, maybe even something a little artsier. He pulled his tool belt tighter to his waist and climbed up a narrow ladder, creaking with rust, to the second floor. He slipped off the ladder and crept into the dark. A few yards down the passageway he found a dead rat, so he picked it up by the tail and carried it back to the ladder. He would pick it back up on the way down.

Near the rat, a few exposed wires hung broken and twisted. He took some time splicing them back together, measuring the likelihood that these wires were what had killed the rat. As he wrapped electrical tape around the repaired bundle, he recognized that this kind of conduit went to a key-card reader. Probably not enough voltage to kill a boy, but enough to kill a rat. He felt sorry for the ugly little rodent.

He moved on, repairing equipment wherever it was needed, all the while looking for the signs that his deceased comrade may have left behind. Just his luck, he came across an arrow. Sometimes the arrows meant an interesting piece of equipment to see, sometimes they meant nothing. He followed it anyway, hoping to come across the corpse of a particularly fascinating machine, but he only found another arrow, burnt into an unused pipe. Curious, he followed that one too, and came across a strange symbol. It seemed to be some sort of crude stick figure, facing sideways, tendrils of something coming from its head. He couldn't make it out, but he thought maybe the kid had found something interesting and wanted his friend to know about it. So he followed arrow after arrow—he counted five in all, to a tiny sliver of a vent. Thin light came trickling in from its narrow cross-section, so he knelt, pressing his eye to it.

He saw a room, a comfortable size, with some sort of apparatus sitting in the center, clicking and whirring with the usual language of Desian machinery. That was not odd—what caught his eye and kept him looking through the little vent for at least twenty more minutes was not the strange device; it was a human woman, longhaired and terribly thin, wearing the ratty uniform of an inmate, struggling to walk across the room. She stumbled one way, reaching her hand out to the wall for support—she only had one, the other arm was missing from the elbow down. Her legs trembled, and she panted with the effort of merely making it from one wall to the other, but each time she made the trip she turned around and did it again. She placed one shaky foot in front of the other, stumbling her way back and forth and back again.

L033 could not fathom why. She didn't seem to be getting anything done, she only seemed to be wasting energy. But he found her struggle captivating, and her face even more so. She had large brown eyes, sunken with starvation, high cheekbones, and thick lips, curled in a grimace. She had an earnestness about her that L033 immediately liked, and a determination in her gaze that attracted him. And her hair—he had never seen a woman with such long hair. The girls at the ranch kept it short because long hair was not permitted. Many of the girls, especially those from outside, were eager to keep it short because they did not want to see it thin with malnourishment. But this woman had wavy hair down to her waist, brown so dark it was almost black. He watched it swish back and forth through the air. It was hypnotizing.

Her spell over him broke when she heard a noise and whipped her head around. For a moment L033 was afraid she caught him spying on her, but instead of walking to his hiding place and confronting him, she stumbled weakly back into the apparatus and went limp just as the automatic door opened and two men walked in.

L033 recognized the first one as Kvar, the second, Forcystus. He did not want to stick around and see what they were going to do to that poor woman, but he couldn't tear himself away from the little vent. He watched them saunter over to her limp figure, chatting away.

"Oh, dear, she _does_ look terrible." Kvar leaned over the woman and quietly spoke: "Anna, dear. Wake up."

She only groaned weakly.

"I told you, Kvar. She's not ready for transfer."

_Transfer_, L033 thought. _She__'__ll be coming with me_. He smiled at the thought, but didn't know why. Maybe she'd get to eat fruit, too. Maybe they could eat it together.

"Well, keep a close eye on her, she's bound to recover soon. You have her eating solid foods yet?"

"No. She's not strong enough for that."

"Pity. Well, until she is ready, I shall be around. I have left the care of my ranch in very capable hands, so I am in no hurry at all."

"Stay as long as you like." The vitriol in Forcystus' voice was nearly tangible.

After the two men had made their way to the exit and closed the door behind them, the woman sat up. She stared after the door for a few seconds, then glanced up to the window in the high wall, just to make sure no one was watching her. L033 followed her gaze, and recognized that window as the same one in Forcystus' chamber. So… she had been the one who had cried out, she had been the one to yell with such agony that L033 could not help tearing up at the sound. He was glad to see that she was still alive.

When she was sure she was not being watched, she slipped off the machine's cushioned bed, and stumbled her way across the room. She began to pace again, back and forth, back and forth…

L033 could easily have watched her for hours. But he knew he had to get back to check in with his overseer, and deliver the dead rat as proof of his work. So he slipped away from the vent and crawled back into the darkness, toward the lower levels.


	5. A Quiet Reunion

It took Anna a few days for her to be able to walk steadily again. It took her a few more to convince Forcystus to let her move to a more private room in the medical wing, where she would not have to worry so much about being watched through that tall window. He had ultimately given in to her requests only because they both agreed that Kvar should never conclude she was fit for transfer. Even a particularly energetic display of talking in her sleep would do the trick, so just to make sure his rival Cardinal did not happen to glimpse her in a moment of vigor, Forcystus had arranged for her room to have no cameras nor windows.

Kvar had been unsurprisingly reluctant to let her out of his sight, so when she was sure he was looking, she feigned some sort of intense neurological fit. Minutes later, Kvar burst into her room with a medical examiner, just to ensure his product was still viable. She steadily ramped up the fits until Kvar admitted that she had better be moved to the medical wing and kept under close watch of the physicians. Of course, Forcystus did not order that close watch, and for the most part, she was left alone.

Very occasionally, a white-coated physician would enter and take her vital signs, ask her how she was, take some blood, and leave. Despite his somewhat infrequent visits, she felt mercifully alone in a room with no windows, no cameras, no mirrors… There was a key-card reader, but it was one of the older models, one that she had seen break many, many times. One that she could break through herself, if given enough leeway to fiddle with it.

When she had slipped out of the Asgard ranch in the darkness of night, she had broken a key-card reader just like this one. Well, her husband had, but she picked up some of his tricks. She was a quick learner.

During her slow recovery, having a few hours alone with the key-card reader each day left her familiar enough with its mechanisms to disarm it. As soon as she got comfortable in her own skin again, she would break through, and she would find her son.

The opportune night came when the head physician was required to visit another human ranch to consult with his comrades on an outbreak of the pox among the inmate population. He discussed it with his assistant as he drew Anna's blood that day.

"It's a real shame how much money they lose when something like that happens," he was saying, drawing the needle out of her arm. "Infectious bugs like that can really decimate a normally healthy crop."

_Such a shame, _Anna thought, barely hiding a sneer. _Such a shame that the ranch will not be seeing its projected profits. _She could only hope that the tragedy was financially deleterious enough to force the Desians line up like lemmings and throw themselves into the sea. It seemed like the only way to eradicate the ranches.

She decided to put off her moralizing for a later date. She needed to focus on the here and now if she was going to manage to find her son. She waited until the facility's lights shut off, and then she lay in her bed for a bit longer, planning.

The assistant might be outside, finishing up work. She wasn't sure if she'd have to knock him out or if she could manage to just sneak by him. She may have been able to overpower him once, when she'd had all her strength and both her arms, but now she was not so sure.

_Come on, Anna_, she thought to herself. _You__'__ve been through this whole ordeal once. You can do it again. Improve your technique. Maybe one day you__'__ll be able to disassemble an entire ranch just by looking at it, but that__'__s a dream for the future. For now, break the card reader. Break that medical assistant. Break out. Break everything._

Her inner monologue motivated her to get up off the bed. She jumped from one foot to the other, swung both her arms. She didn't have a very good left jab—lack of a forearm and all—but her frail right hook might be enough to get her through one man. She had been gaining strength, eating more than her fair share of food, thanks to Kvar's intense desire for her to recover fully. Just the other day he brought her a brick of fudge to "fatten her up." The audacity of that man! Not that she refused the fudge. Chocolate was her favorite.

_If I run into that bastard I__'__m going to destroy him, _she thought to herself, and couldn't help but smile a little. She didn't know how, but if Kvar met her in the halls, he would leave the ordeal a broken man.

She took a deep breath and approached the key-card reader. She knelt, reached up, and wiggled the magnetic cover from its place. As she fiddled with its insides, she stopped for a moment to acknowledge that this would be much, much easier with two hands.

The reader beeped, once, twice, as if deciding whether or not it was broken, then slid the door open for her. She slipped out into the dark hall, down the passageway into the main examining room. There was no one there, but she grabbed a scalpel and kept it close. She wiggled her lips, thinking. It would be best if she could get in and out of here without being noticed—that would give her son the greatest chances of survival.

So she grabbed a medical assistant's uniform, lab coat and all, and slipped it on. The sleeves looked awkward, the left one hanging uselessly over her elbow, but she would have to live with it. She only had so much time before the guards emerged from their break rooms for the midnight inspection. Or, so she assumed. If the general operation of ranches hadn't changed in the past few years, then she was golden. If they had, well, she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

She dusted off her lab coat, grabbed the careless assistant's lanyard from a not-so-hidden drawer, put on her hood and mask and exited the medical wing.

When she had escaped the Asgard ranch, she had every inch of the place memorized. She had known ever door, every lock, every passageway and elevator and water pipe. She knew all the guards' shifts, she knew every sentry's route, every officer's hours off, she knew everything. That's the only way she had been able to escape—besides the help of one very knowledgeable man. But now she was winging it, sauntering through the halls in a shoddy disguise, without the faintest idea of where she was headed. She wondered if lying for five years in a comatose state had atrophied enough of her brain to leave her reckless and stupid. Could be. Everything since her awakening had still seemed like a dream, so perhaps that's what made her so bold—maybe she was still confined within the walls of her own sleeping mind and instinctively knew her actions had no consequences.

Maybe it was the familiarity with the situation that drove her on without hesitation. If ranch layouts had any similarities—of course they did, they were all designed by the same people—then she would be able to find her way through this one. All she needed to do was superimpose the difference between the two facilities onto her mental image of the Asgard ranch blueprint, and she could find her way anywhere.

So… the holding chambers were usually built on the west side of the facility, and the medical wing at the north. Any children in the ranches were commonly held in Block C, so she took a sharp right turn and followed the hall until she came to her destination. She passed one or two Desian guards on her way, but they simply nodded to her in acknowledgment. The bold, determined way she walked kept their suspicions low. This medical worker had a destination—she was probably seeing to an emergency, so they did not interfere.

Her heart was racing when she slid the medical assistant's key card past the magnetic sensor. She prayed to all the gods above that his ID was cleared for this area. To her great relief, with a flash of green light and a pleasant beep, the door slid open for her.

There was only one sleeping chamber, in which fifty-odd children were kept, at the end of the hall. The other doors led to the privy and showers, a mess hall, and, if she had to guess, a closet full of the children's work supplies. She approached the door to the sleeping chamber quietly, holding her breath. If anyone came now, she was utterly without hope of escape. But she needed to find him.

A clipboard sat in a case hanging from the door, and she grabbed it, just in case a child woke up to find a strange Desian in their chamber without the attendance clipboard. She knew that her medical coat would not faze them—Desian personnel's tasks changed according to necessity. So she took the clipboard in her arm, slid the attached pen into the clip, and opened the door.

The room was so quiet she briefly wondered if she had made a mistake and instead of discovering the sleeping quarters she had stumbled upon the morgue. She slipped past rows and rows of cots, her eyes passing over the sleeping children's chests rising and falling beneath the ratty blankets.

The chamber was usually organized by sex and age group, so she made her way to the boys' side, and sought out ages 7-8. It looked like she only had fifteen or so children to look through before she found him. If she found him.

She didn't know what else to do but start looking. The first child she glanced at slept on his stomach, with his face buried in the sorry excuse for a pillow, but in the dim light she saw his hair was yellow as flax. The second boy she needed to take a closer look at, but it was definitely not her son. The third one had his head buried beneath his blanket, so she checked his foot. 134201. Not the right code.

By the fifth child, she was staring to panic. She worried she would never see him again, that Forcystus had lied and he was dead, that he had been transferred to another ranch already, or worse, that he was in the hands of the Desians' overlords. The highest of the high, the angels above… _oh gods, please no. Please not that. Please don__'__t let him be with them__…_

She was about to burst into frustrated tears when she finally came across him. She saw his face, his familiar upturned nose, the slight curl of his mouth he had retained since toddlerhood, and she had to force herself to accept that he was real. This whole ordeal still seemed like some sort of hallucination—she could not believe that she was staring into the sleeping face of her son, a son who seemingly only days ago had been a toddler. Fat in the face, quick to cry, he had been three. And now he was tall, lanky, toughened. His left foot poked out from under the blanket and she took a close look at it, just to make sure. L033. One letter, three numbers—the code for a subject of the Angelus Project.

It was him, dear gods, it was definitely him. He slept on his side, mouth hanging open, as it always had when he was little. He was skinny, too skinny, like her. His hair was thin and brittle, his hands blackened with the injuries from his labor. She covered her mouth to keep from crying out, but the top of her hand quickly grew wet with tears. She knelt beside him, looked into his sweet, sleeping face, admiring the gap where his front tooth was missing. She couldn't help herself, the urge just swept through her like a tidal wave, and she reached out to touch his face…

He opened his eyes. He did not scream, and she lifted her finger to her lips to keep him quiet. He stared up at her with his big brown eyes, so like hers, and yet so like his father's. Quickly, silently, she removed her hood and mask.

He broke out in a smile, as if he recognized her, but he said nothing. He reached out to her with one blackened hand and touched the side of her face. She held his little hand there, savoring the feel of his rough skin. She wanted to stay there forever, kneeling at his side, but she knew she couldn't.

Her son was alive—this was the best discovery she had made this night. The second best was that he was acquainted with the electrical workings of the ranch. The burns and cuts on his fingers told her that he was one of the children who spent their days roaming the inner portions of the facility, snipping and splicing wires, cleaning vents and fixing various apparatuses. She had seen a few of them at her time in the Asgard ranch, before Kvar decided to purge his facility of children. In an dissatisfying, even infuriating way, she forced herself to be thankful for her son's labor. His particular brand of slavery would work to both of their advantage.

Her plans changed somewhat. Escape routes rewrote themselves in her mind, her timescale contracted, her assessment of their chances of escape increased dramatically. The rusty cogs and wheels in her brain started turning, rapidly, powerfully, and cranking back into high functionality.

She reached to her clipboard and drew out the pen. Again, she held her finger to her lips, and her son nodded. She rolled up the left sleeve of his tattered uniform all the way up to his armpit, and in the soft, unnoticeable length of skin between his shoulder and elbow, she began to draw.

If he rolled down his sleeve, no one would see this drawing. Even if he had to take a shower or change in front of a guard, if he kept his arm close to his side, they would not notice it. She tried not to make the diagram too big, but just big enough so that if he lifted up his arm, he would be able to read it.

She drew a square, with three numbers across its top. In the middle was a distinct marking—a brand logo, to be exact, but her son would not recognize it as such. At the bottom three wires poked out. The first and second remained intact, but the one on the far right, she made very sure to emphasize in her picture, was cut. She left him no worded instructions—she figured they never taught him to read.

She knew she was running out of time, so she hastily put the pen back in the clipboard and rolled down his sleeve. He smiled up at her, and she could not bear to leave without planting a silent kiss on his forehead. As she floated away as quietly as she had come in, he lay back down, pulled the covers around him, and pretended to snore a little.

She hoped none of the other children had noticed her presence, and if they did, thought nothing of it. It was a risk she'd have to take. She slipped out of the room, replacing the pen and clipboard, and walked purposefully back down the hall. She exited Block C and made her way north.

She was finally able to breathe again when she returned to the medical wing to find it still empty. Her trip had probably taken her all of thirty minutes, but it had certainly seemed like much longer. She undressed, pulled off her examiner's coat, returned the lanyard to the drawer, even skewed it sideways so it would remain just as she found it, and pulled off the mask. She replaced everything exactly as it was, and returned to her room without further complication.

She quickly replaced the cover on the key-card reader and slid into her bed, thinking hastily.

No doubt at some point in her journey she had been caught on camera. She figured that the most likely place for surveillance to be heaviest was the main hall, or any large passages connecting to it. In that case, it would be difficult for her to get caught. Medical staff were seen everywhere on the premises, no one would notice if one were walking around on camera. If they were filming inside the children's room, and it was possible, since one of the children was an Angelus Project subject, then she had a few more complications to work through.

It could be that whoever was responsible for going through the security tapes just saw an unplanned but necessary checkup for one of the boys in Block C. They may think nothing of it and say nothing about it. But if they did… they'd go to Forcystus, not Kvar, first. It was Forcystus' ranch, so the staff answered to him, reported to him.

If Forcystus saw any footage of an unplanned medical checkup for L033, he would know it had been her. But he may or may not do anything about it, considering their recent conspiracy. They were both complicit in getting the better of Kvar—it all came down to what Forcystus valued more: punishing her or outwitting his rival.

Since Forcystus was a man in a position of power, she assumed he would obey the whims of his ego and prioritize his desire to outface Kvar. She could only hope that was the case. If it wasn't, then she could just give up on trying to escape.

But she would worry about that later. She would have to act fast, and so would her son. She hoped beyond hope that he would understand and follow the instructions she left scrawled on his inner arm. She was well aware of the degree of risk she took in giving him that hint, but it was paramount to their escape. He would have to interpret and follow those instructions quickly, quietly, and most importantly of all, tell no one about any of this.

Anna only hoped that her son had inherited his mother's cleverness and his father's silent disposition. Beyond that, there wasn't much she could do for him at this point. She had to make other plans.

So she began.


	6. Technical

L033 was not sure if it had been a dream or not. But that woman, the one with the long hair, she had come to him, either in his sleep or in real life, and had left something for him. She had kissed him on the forehead. He did not know what any of it meant, or what he had done to deserve such treatment. All he knew is that he wanted to see her again.

He did not know why a woman who was obviously a human, and therefore a prisoner, would come to him in a Desian medic's uniform, but at this point he didn't care. The morning after her visit, when he was handed his equipment and sent off to work, he was giddy with the prospect of being alone so he could interpret her message. He had no privacy to examine his arm in the early morning, when they were all dragged out of bed and into the mess hall for a quick breakfast. Now that he was in the dark safety of the walls, where his chances of encountering another child were small, he could spend some time with the picture she had left him.

He slipped through the shadows to a place where he knew the light was better. There was a vent in the south wing that provided ample light. Someone had placed a lamp directly above it at such an angle that its light came flooding through the vent's bars in thick, white strips. He knelt under the glow and raised his arm up, looking at the small diagram drawn on his soft skin.

He recognized the symbol in the middle of the box she had drawn. In the basement, there sat an electrical box that controlled the fans to the laundry unit with that same symbol on it. He didn't know what the numbers along its top meant, so he looked elsewhere on the diagram, and counted the wires coming from its bottom. Two were intact, the third was severed.

As far as he remembered, all three wires were supposed to run unbroken from the bottom of the box to the various fans that pumped out the caustic waste from the laundry unit into the air outside. He narrowed his eyes at the small diagram. Maybe she was trying to tell him that the third wire was broken, and that he needed to make his way down to the basement to fix it.

That seemed like the best course of action regardless. He hadn't been down there in a while, and unless some other little boy or girl took the time to go down there and check, the basement had remained unserviced for some time now. He doubted that someone had gone out of their way to check—usually the children avoided the basement. It was freezing down there, and stank horribly, since that's where most of the facility's waste was treated.

The crematorium was down there, as well as the laundry and the trash compactor. When it didn't smell like human waste and rotten food, it smelled like burning flesh. None of the children were fond of that smell, so they did their best to stay away from the basement. They usually only went down there when they were explicitly commanded to do so.

The laundry portion of the basement was less offensive than the others. For the most part the stench was that of acidic cleaning agents, and though the air in the walls down there burned his eyes and made him cough and choke, he still crawled boldly onward, deeper into the facility, toward the apparatus depicted on his arm. He covered his face with his hand and affixed his goggles, but he still could not get the taste of that caustic cleaner out of his mouth. His tongue curled in disgust, but he pressed on, making his way through the harsh air to the fan control mechanism.

When he got there, he squinted at it in the dim light, trying to make out the broken wire. He had his tape and splicing tools all ready, but when he reached down for the third wire he found it perfectly intact. He looked at the other ones and found them unbroken as well. For a moment, he sat there, staring at the little apparatus, thinking of what to do.

Either that lady had been misinformed about the state of this particular machine, or else she had wanted him to do something entirely different with it. He sat there for what must've been the better part of ten minutes, mind slowly churning. Then he came upon a conclusion so bizarre he had to laugh little bit. She must've wanted him to cut the wire.

He had never been told to destroy anything in the facility. Ever. Of course, he had cut wires before, when necessary, but never for the sake of sabotage. He had never harmed any machine, he had only helped them. He had never dared break anything, for fear of the guards finding out. But… down here, there wasn't much to go on to pin the blame of a broken machine on him. He sat on his haunches, staring at the little gadget, wondering.

Why on earth should he? Why not? If they found out that he had cut the wire and the third fan in the laundry processing facility shut off, they would beat him senseless. But then again, with two working fans, no one would notice that the third was broken for quite a while, and then he could just blame the rats that gnawed their way through the basement.

It would please that woman if he cut the wire, he was sure of it. When he saw her again, he would tell her that he did it, and then she would probably smile. She had smiled when she knelt next to him in the sleeping chamber. He wanted to see that again.

So he raised his wire shears and clipped the little yellow cable. The interface flashed with red light, briefly, and then settled down. He looked at the severed wire, and decided that the cut he'd made was too sharp, too clean. If they were going to suspect a rat had done this, he was going to have to make it look natural. He took each end of the wire and frayed them a little, using his gloved fingers and the edge of his cable cutter. When he was satisfied the wire looked like it had fallen victim to a rodent and not a wayward little boy, he left the laundry facility, and that repugnant basement, as quickly as possible.

He felt a strange elation bubble up in him. He had never purposefully broken anything before. His heart beat furiously against his ribcage, a few beads of sweat dripped down his face, and his breathing came fast and excited. It almost felt good to snip that wire, but he didn't understand why. All he knew was that he'd done something bad, and he might get away with it.

At the end of the morning, when he was scheduled to crawl out of the walls for his meager lunch, he set his collection of broken wires and scraps of metal at the trapdoor and stopped to examine his arm one more time. He considered keeping the mark on him for good luck, but then he decided that if anyone saw it he'd be promptly accused of stealing a pen. If that happened, he'd be in for a beating.

So he licked his thumb and rubbed it furiously against his upper arm, scratching and chafing at the skin until all that was left of the diagram was a raw, red spot, smudged slightly with dark ink. He thought it could pass for a shadow to an unobservant eye, so he rolled his sleeve back down and stepped out into the light.

When he returned to his supervisor, he was surprised to find Kvar standing in the hall, chatting away with the guard. The underling just nodded slowly every few moments, muttering noncommittal agreements, as if afraid to voice an opinion. When L033 approached them, hands full, the guard's eyes settled on him. Kvar turned and greeted him almost jovially.

"Working hard, aren't you?" he asked.

L033 bowed deeply. "Yes," he said. "Sir," he appended. He lay down his armful of sharp junk, when to his horror a piece of stray scrap metal caught on his sleeve and ripped it. He pulled his arm away and quickly hid it against his side, but Kvar had seen the unusual coloring of his skin. The Desian Cardinal, faster than L033 would've thought possible, snatched his arm and held it up, examining the spot.

"What is this?" he asked.

The boy began to sweat. If he told Kvar the truth now, he may wind up avoiding punishment… Kvar was kind, and reasonable, and seemed to have taken a liking to him... Yes, Kvar was friendly, and if L033 only confessed, told him what the woman had drawn on his arm, he would not be punished. He might even be rewarded. The tempting image of another apple flashed through his mind.

Yes, he would do that. Kvar would understand.

"It's a—" he started, but then a terrible thought struck him. If he were spared, he knew that the woman would be punished in his stead. They would surely lock her away, and he'd never see her again. Maybe they would kill her. "It's a—a bruise," he stuttered.

Kvar squeezed his arm so tight he thought his bones would break. The look on the Desian's face set his heart thumping in terrified, struggling beats. Kvar stared at him for a few agonized moments, eyes narrowed. "It's a _rash,_" he snarled. He dropped L033 and turned to the guard. "This place is a sty. I want all of my transfer subjects to undergo medical examinations before they leave here. I don't want them bringing infestations with them, _especially_ not him, do you understand?"

The Desian gulped and nodded. L033 breathed a long sigh, and the guard shooed him away. Kvar continued his indignant tirade against what he referred to as "sickeningly unhygienic conditions," and L033 slipped away to take his midday meal.

For the rest of the day he worked tirelessly, fixing wires and cleaning out old machines. But the whole time, the images of Kvar's snarl, of his raw arm, and of that broken apparatus drove him forward. He wanted that woman to see what he had done—he wanted to tell her about it. But he knew he would have to wait until she visited him again, and he didn't know how long that would be. He would just have to be patient.

* * *

"I thought I would just let you know that our video feed shows a mysterious medical employee exiting the wing." Forcystus sat across from Anna, a scowl on his face. "She heads toward to Block C and presumably spends some unauthorized time there."

Anna tried to keep herself from sweating. She did a poor job. "Why are you telling me this?"

Forcystus sighed irritably. "She is apparently cleared in all areas, but she appears to be missing an arm." He paused, making sure she suffered a little under the weight of his stare. "When I said to use your acting, I did not mean it like that. What were you doing in there?"

Anna knew then—just her luck—that there had been no cameras inside the sleeping chamber itself. It seemed, from Forcystus' wording, that there were few cameras around Block C, either. Perhaps children weren't much of a security risk. She hid her relief. "I just… I just went to stare at him for a while."

"And if I ask any of the children in there what they saw when a medical examiner came inside, they will say that you… just stared? They will tell me that you didn't speak to him at all? That you didn't give him any items or move him or anything?"

"That's exactly what they'll say," she replied confidently.

Forcystus groaned, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. She saw a few veins twitch under the skin above his eyebrow. "I've heard plenty of stories of your misbehavior from Kvar. He has mentioned some of the stunts you pulled at your stay in his ranch. I'll have you know I don't appreciate you wandering around like that. I will not tolerate it. You are jeopardizing our whole operation here."

"It won't happen again. I just needed to see him." Anna lay her face in her palm and began to cry.

"You _will_ get to see him," Forcystus said, ignoring her sobs. "If you stay here. I'm not like Kvar. I'll let you visit him every once in a while, but _only if you behave_. Do you understand?"

Anna nodded.

"Obviously I can't have you punished properly for your untoward behavior or Kvar will know you had strength enough to disobey. But I can always punish you—and your son—in the future. Just remember that."

She looked up at him, red-eyed, and bit her lip. "I know."

"Good." Forcystus stood. "Obviously you have some knowledge of the medical wing, which is why we will shortly be changing all of the doors and key card readers. Kvar will be by to check in on you in the next few days. We've advised him against it but he's not one to be discouraged. Do _not_ reveal anything to him. I will not mention that you have been out and about. He has not seen our security footage. But don't do anything stupid. Remember that if you go to his ranch, you will never see your son again. He will grow up in isolation. He will die young. Here, that won't happen. Whenever you think of disobeying me, consider that fact."

"I understand."

Forcystus headed for the door. "I'm not sure you do," he said, before leaving her alone once more.

* * *

As Anna lay on her tiny cot in the medical wing, she couldn't help but sweat with anticipation. She stared at the ceiling and counted the small shadows cast by the plaster. She twitched the fingers of her right hand against the aluminum frame, drumming out an old song from her childhood.

She hoped that her son had figured out what she wanted. Their escape depended on it. It had been three days since she left him the note on his arm—he'd had three days to find and disable the fan. If he hadn't figured it out… then…

As the door slid open, she tried to feign sleep, but she hadn't gone limp fast enough. Kvar had seen her relax.

"Anna!" he said, as if greeting an old friend. His voice sent a shiver down her spine. "It's good to see you're awake."

She looked over at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you stable enough to have a little chat?" he asked.

"No." Her answer was quick and stern enough to convince him that she was indeed mentally capable of holding a conversation.

"Perfect." He loomed over her with a grin so wide it almost hurt to look at. "How have you been faring? Well, I take it?"

"I've been better."

"I know you have. I've seen you at your best, and you are indeed an impressive creature. You have such superb blood, such a perfect physique to grow our most powerful exsphere." The way he reached out and touched her cheekbone made bile rise in her throat. "You are, unfortunately, a bit bent out of shape. But we'll fix that." His gaze wandered to her left arm, or what was left of it. "It's a pity about your injury, though. Who'd have thought your husband had it in him?"

Anna had to concede. "Not me." She still didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe that it had all been a dream, that his violence had been nothing but a fearful nightmare. But here she was, without an arm—proof enough that the memories she had of the incident were at least somewhat accurate. But still, she wondered what could've set him off like that, what could've driven the calm, quiet man she once knew into a fit of rage so fervent he would mutilate his own wife.

Kvar must've sensed where her thoughts were going. He tagged along with them, enjoying the ride. "He's still working for us, you know," he said. Anna tried not to listen, but she couldn't help herself. She drank in his words like bitter poison. "He's quite content in Cruxis, where he belongs, looking down on the world the same way he's always looked down on you." He paused to flash her a sickening smile. "You know, I have a theory. I believe that he never really left us at all. I think he married you and fathered your son at the behest of our leader. He is fine breeding stock, I'll have to admit, and there were no other humans respected enough in our organization to have the privilege of working on the Angelus Project." Anna's right hand was in a white-knuckled fist at this point. "Yes, it _does_ make sense when you think of it that way, doesn't it? After the success of your exsphere, we needed more of that blood, and what better way to reproduce the results than to repeat the experiment on your child? It needed to be Kratos—we had to have a human child for the Project, you see. We do not perform such experiments on half-elves. We aren't barbarians, Anna. We have morals."

She didn't know what she was thinking. Perhaps she was thinking nothing at all. But when she drew back her shaking fist and struck Kvar across the face, she couldn't help but feel like it was the only thing she could've done. She couldn't stop herself—she reveled in that moment when her hand, weak as it was, met Kvar's cheekbone with a satisfying thump. As he drew back, hand over his face, she tried to interpret his look. He had cried out, but with pain or joy, she couldn't tell.

He lifted his eyes to her and smiled cruelly. She sat up on the bed, panting with anger. "My, my," he started. "It seems you are well enough for transfer. Very well. First thing tomorrow you will be accompanying me back to my ranch, where you will do what you do best—make us a fine product." He turned, flexing his jaw and twitching his cheek muscles. "We will be taking your son with us. I hope for his sake he has your proclivity for success. If he doesn't, we'll have no choice but to dispose of him. You'll get to watch."

Kvar flashed her a grimace that perhaps he intended to be a smile, and shut the door behind him.

She took a deep breath, lying back on the bed. Gods above, why did she have to be so impulsive? She curled up on her side, trying to regulate her heart and lungs. She had done it now—she had convinced Kvar that she had recovered enough of her strength to repeat the project. Forcystus would not be pleased. She expected to get a visit from him in the very near future. And she would also have to have a visit from the doctors, just to get her final checkup for transfer. They would probably want to do a similar one on her son…

It would have to be tonight. Tonight, or never. As soon as she was officially marked as Kvar's property he would never leave her alone. There would be no escape from his clutches a second time, she was sure of it.

Her carefully laid-out plans crumbled, but she was able to salvage a few key parts from the rubble. She took a minute to gather herself, to prepare herself for Forcystus' inevitable visit, for the doctor's appointment, for her escape.

She had done it once before, albeit next to a very powerful man, full of knowledge and strength. Now she would have to do it alone, burdened by her son. She would just have to hope that her boy wouldn't fail her, and that she wouldn't fail him.

* * *

Not twenty minutes after Kvar had left, Forcystus returned to her room. She could smell the fury on him when he came in, but he didn't hurt her. In fact, he didn't do much at all. He came in and stated simply, "You've done it, Anna. You will never see your son again." Then he left. That was it.

She silently thanked him for his mercy. She knew she wouldn't be so well-treated at Kvar's ranch.

She took a deep breath, thinking deeply. She repeated comforting mantras to herself, the same ones she had years ago whenever she had a tricky performance to pull off. She recited a few tongue twisters, sang a few shaky scales, stretched her neck. She imagined the curtain rising.

She slipped off the bed and pressed her ear to the door, listening for any sign that the Grand Cardinal had lingered in the medical wing, but she heard nothing. He was probably halfway to his quarters by now. No doubt he and Kvar would be spending the evening together, pouring over paperwork, figuring out the logistics of the transfer, looking daggers at one another over the table. She hoped they would distract one another sufficiently for hours to come.

She couldn't stop by Block C to get her son now. They would be watching for her. He would have to come here. She figured he was already scheduled for a pre-transfer checkup, since that followed the usual consignment mandates. It would not surprise any Desians if her son were summoned to the medical wing. Of course, the physicians were instructed to keep them separated, that much was obvious to her. But if she played her cards right, perhaps she could manage to slip them both under the Desians' radar.

So when she was sure she was alone, and unable to be heard, she got to work on the key-card reader again. After the last time she had fiddled with it, they changed to a more recent model, but the general setup was the same. They were all hackable, if one just spent enough time with them, or so her husband had insisted many times. She knelt by the device and looked it over. She needed to truly break it this time, but break it in a very specific way. In theory, the process was actually easier than simply opening the door without a key, but she wasn't terribly familiar with the new type of reader and struggled for at least an hour before she got its closing mechanism rigged. There was no way she could get this more sophisticated model to open without a proper key card, but that was fine with her. It only had to open once, and close once. Then she could begin the real work. She sat down with her ear to the door and waited.

After a painfully long while, she heard footsteps approach. She could make out the cheerful voice of the physician and the constant responses of his assistant. He seemed to talk that poor young man into oblivion, which was encouraging. Distraction bred sluggishness—it was something her husband had often said.

She slipped to the side of the door, pressed up against the wall. Once they opened the door, she would have less than a three seconds to slip through. Then it would close and lock permanently. Or so she hoped, so she had planned. But she always had to leave room for the possibility that things would not go her way. Things had not been going her way for these past couple years. Of course, she had been asleep, so she hadn't had much control over them.

But she had at least a modicum of control now. She had control over her breath, over her trembling legs, over her fist, clenched at her side, still sore from its run-in with Kvar's face. She almost smiled when the door slid open and the two men walked in, talking distractedly. They were deep in conversation about some virus or another, and they got halfway across her room before they noticed she wasn't in her bed. When they turned around and saw her grinning face on the other side of the doorway, it was already sliding shut. The sound of the lock rang out like sweet music.

She released her bated breath and turned to her surroundings. There were a few disguises she could don, the simplest of which she had already worn. She decided to err on the side of familiarity, and pulled on a spare costume of a medical assistant. Unfortunately, on-site assistant himself was locked in her room with his ID card, so she couldn't use that to give herself free reign of the ranch.

On the counter, under the ticking clock, lay the day's medical agenda. She pulled up a stool and leaned over the notebook, ignoring the muffled cries from the physician and his helper from her room. The Desians had done a spectacular job of soundproofing the medical wing, which was perfectly understandable. There were always cries of pain emanating from everywhere in the ranch, but the medical facility suffered from especially loud sound pollution. Thanks to the insulating walls, she had an easy time concentrating and memorizing the day's schedule.

It was already late in the day, but there were a few more appointments before her son was scheduled to show up. She picked up the communicator sitting at the edge of the counter, and put on her best authoritative voice. She tuned into the blocks that held the prisoners scheduled that day, and sent them a notice.

"Please disregard orders to bring prisoners 134921, 211340, 198073, and 120397 to the medical wing today. At the last available time slot, bring in L033."

"What's the matter?" came the reply from the intercom. "Did something happen?"

"It's A012. Bitch is a code 4." She hoped her Desian slang was still up to date. She hadn't heard it in many years. If nothing had changed, code 4 was still a term they used when a prisoner snapped. It usually meant the subject had gone insane and posed a threat to the guards. Anna had seen it happen to one man at the Asgard ranch. He took out about four of them before they wrestled him to the ground and put a bullet through his skull.

"Ah, yeah," the Desian on the other side said. "I heard she punched Kvar. Crazy little whore, isn't she?"

Word spread fast. Anna was flattered she'd left such a good impression. "Unmanageable. But Kvar wants L033 to be processed by tonight. His transfer is tomorrow morning. I'll call you after A012 is handled."

"Roger."

"And make sure word of this doesn't reach Kvar. He'll have all our asses if he finds out that bitch is giving us so much trouble."

"Consider it on the down-low, ma'am."

Anna let go of the button. She swiveled in the stool, glancing at the clock, waiting. If she delayed long enough, she could get her son in here right before the ranch shut down for the night… then they could…

She sat there for a few hours, just trembling. She expected Forcystus or Kvar to come barging in any minute, an army of guards behind them, absolutely furious. She could imagine Forcystus admitting to being a little impressed that she had come this far, but Kvar had no patience for disobedience, especially after she had escaped him once. For him, this was personal. If he ever found out… gods, she was in for it.

Seconds passed like hours, and hours passed like weeks. But eventually, after the medical personnel had quieted down and realized that no one was coming to their rescue, the time came. She took a deep breath, and got Block C on the intercom.

"A012 is sedated and cleared for transfer. Bring in L033 for his examination," she commanded.

"He'll be there in five," came the answer.

Just in case something went terribly awry, she pulled the largest surgical knife she could find from the cupboard. It was about half the length of her forearm, but it would have to do. She concealed it up her sleeve, sat on her stool, and waited.


	7. Opening Night

Anna sat next to the desk, bent over the medical agenda, waiting. The surgical knife sat in her sleeve, cold and sharp against her forearm. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Her heart thumped so loudly in her ears she barely heard the door slide open. She stiffened, but didn't turn to face whoever had walked in. She harbored an image in her frantic mind of Kvar standing there, a hand on each shoulder of her son. She pretended to be busy, furiously scribbling nonsensical doodles with her trembling pen, trying to shoo the image from her head.

She heard a throat clearing, and wheeled around in her stool slowly, angling herself to hide her missing arm against the desk. She glanced at the guard, who to her great relief was most certainly not Kvar, and looked down at the scrawny little boy. She avoided his large-eyed gaze and nodded nonchalantly to the Desian.

"Please just leave him over there," she said. She hoped that her son would not recognize her voice, or at least know enough to not point out to the guard that this woman was actually a prisoner in disguise. He said nothing, like a good boy.

The guard didn't move. He just frowned. "I can't. It's almost lights-out. I'll have to escort him back to the sleeping chamber after his examination."

She swiveled in her stool, feet tapping, trying not to look at him straight in the eye. If he even suspected that she was that code 4 bitch, all this would be over in an instant. "Don't worry about it. I can take him back myself. I'm off after the exam, so I'll just bring him back on my way to the dorms."

He eyed her, smiling. "That's nice of you. I'm off at lights-out too. Any plans tonight?"

_Are you kidding me?_ Anna couldn't help but sigh. She resisted the urge to poke him with her pilfered scalpel. She hoped he couldn't see her grimace beneath her thin white mask, or the way her eyes narrowed above it. "No plans that I know of. This might take a while—it'll probably be over well after your shift ends. But I'll meet you at the door to Block C, all right? In about…" she pretended to look at the clock, "an hour and a half? Two hours, max."

"You got it." He made for the door. Anna watched him go, heart racing, wishing that he'd just disappear back into the hall. At the last moment he turned around. "Hey, I never got your name."

"Patience is a virtue," she said, as coyly as she could muster. "You'll know everything about me soon enough."

He chuckled and slipped out into the hall. Anna stood stone still for a moment, then let out all her anxiety in one breath. The little boy looked up at her, silent, hands folded politely. He watched her carefully as she removed her mask and hood. When she bent down to examine him, he beamed, elated. She almost cried just looking at that grin.

"I knew I'd see you again," he said. "I did it. I cut the wire."

Anna mirrored his smile. She noticed that her son sported the same crooked, mischievous grin as she did. He was missing two teeth, but other than that, their mouths curled in an uncannily similar way.

"You're a good boy, you know that?" she said. She wrapped her arms around him, clutching him tight. Before she could help herself, she started to cry. "I've missed you so much." She didn't know why she said that—as far as her own timeline was concerned, he had only been gone a few weeks.

She felt him tense up, unsure. She couldn't blame him; he had been so young when they had separated. He probably didn't even remember her. She squeezed him and let him go, looking into his big brown eyes.

"Are you a Desian?" he asked. "Why are you in their clothes?"

She sighed. His look was filled with such earnestness she couldn't help but be blunt with him. "Because this is a disguise. We're escaping tonight."

His eyes widened. He seemed to toy with that realization a while in his head, getting a feel for it. She let him think for a moment, as he attempted to understand the gravity of her words. "You mean..." he started pensively. "You mean outside? We're going outside?"

"Yes."

His eyes flashed excitedly, then dulled with fear. "But… how? The guards will…"

"We're going to wait here for a while, so it looks like I've given you a checkup. They think I'm going to take you back to Block C afterwards. We'll walk right past them and they won't notice. Just act like I'm a Desian, and everything will be fine. You just have to do everything I say. You get it? _Everything I say_."

He stared at her for a moment. "Why? Why are you gonna help me get out?"

She smiled at him. Now was as good a time as ever to break the news to him, she supposed. "Because I'm your mother."

He looked up at her with eyes so bewildered she was unsure he even heard her. But when he burst into tears and threw himself in her arms, she changed her mind. "It's okay…" She tried to comfort him, rubbing his back, whispering in his ear, but he just sobbed into her shoulder, squeezing her around the waist like he was about to be torn away from her for good. She lifted his chin and looked into his face, smiling. "Your name is Lloyd, and I'm your mother."

He tried on the facts for size. "My name is Lloyd, and you're my mother." He repeated the phrase, once, twice, thrice, and laughed. "My name!" He went from laughter to tears and back to laughter in the course of an instant. Anna just sat there and cradled her volatile child as he seemingly ran the entire gamut of human emotion. She tried to quiet him, since she couldn't possibly drag a screaming, laughing emotional wreck of a child out of the facility. She would have to wait until he was ready, so she just held him silently until he quieted down. He nestled in her arms, neither of them sure what to say next, so they sat there on the floor of the physician's office until Anna deemed it was time to go.

Anna checked the clock before standing up and helping Lloyd off the floor. "So, you must do exactly what I tell you to. Don't stop, don't dawdle, don't talk at all. I know you have a lot of questions, but you can ask them after we get out, okay? There will be plenty of time for that."

He nodded.

"Okay. I'm going to put my mask back on. Pretend like I'm a Desian. Follow me like you would follow a Desian. Keep your head down and no talking."

She opened the door to the medical wing and stepped out into the hall. She didn't bother looking both ways—her transporting L033 back to his sleeping chamber was an entirely expected phenomenon. Hopefully nobody had let Forcystus know that A012 had been a nuisance and that her son's examination had been delayed. He might take the knowledge in stride and look into it no further. Then again, he might not. If he wasn't too busy keeping that giddy little bastard Kvar under control, he might take the time to listen to a status report or two. Either way, it was best if she acted as natural as possible.

At first she made her way toward Block C, where they would be expecting her. Behind her, her son kept trying to reach out and take her hand, but she had to pull away, hissing at him to stop. He again lowered his hands to his sides and Anna's heart wrung itself out, twisting in her chest. _Later, Lloyd_. _Right now we need to look like a guard and a prisoner. I'm sorry._

The man she was supposed to meet would not appear at the junction between Block C and the main facility for at least another forty-five minutes, so she didn't have to worry about running into him. She trusted that if he wanted to meet up with her, he would've told his supervisors not to expect L033 back at the sleeping chamber until late in the night. Gods, she hoped he was at least that decent of an employee. She could never be sure, though.

She headed down the hall, following her mental map. But before she arrived at the entrance to Block C, she took a sharp right down a small corridor and descended the maintenance stairway to the basement. She turned the corner deliberately, quickly, and when there was no sign of any guards. She didn't have time to check or disable any cameras lying around, but she was sure no one present had seen her deviate from her assigned path. The only sounds were their footsteps echoing against the concrete stars. She and her son were alone.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she got to the basement. The laundry area was only a short walk away, and a walk that was usually empty. Again, her luck held—she encountered no one. The air hung acrid with cleaning agents, and she reached down to cover Lloyd's face as she made her way across the room. She passed piles of dirty clothes, a disproportionate amount of them stained with blood, and walked to the place where she was sure fan #3 sat idly above her. A vent crawled across the ceiling, bent at a right angle and hung over a vat of stinking clothes soaking in bleach and other stinking substances. She leaned over the steaming liquid and looked up. From the way the air hung thickly over her head, and the silence above her, she knew she was in the right place. Now, if only she could…

She heard footsteps. She whipped around, looked at her son, and pushed him toward the side of the room. "Hide in the clothes," she said. He shot a concerned look back at her. "Do it!" she hissed, and he crawled under a pile of filthy laundry.

Anna thought quickly. She still had the surgical knife hidden up her sleeve, but the steps emanated from the other side of the room, far from her immediate reach…

When she saw a Desian round the corner and enter the room, she thrust her missing arm in the vat. The liquid barely touched her elbow, burning on contact, but she ignored the pain. The Desian trotted over to her, perplexed that a woman would willingly submerge her arm in such a corrosive concoction.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Desian demanded.

_I can__'__t let her see my arm_, Anna thought. _She might know. _She swirled her elbow in the water a little bit, as if she were groping for something at the bottom.

"Kvar, it's Kvar," she gasped. "He left his… he lost his…"

"His what?" the guard demanded. She had little patience for this charade, it seemed.

"His ring. Oh gods, his ring is at the bottom of this!" Anna began to cry. "If we don't get this out and give it back to him before he leaves, he's gonna kill us both!"

The Desian looked at her, then sighed. "Gods above. Get your arm out of that disgusting pool. I'll go fetch something we can dig it out with."

"Oh, thank you!" Anna sobbed, and as the Desian turned, she slipped behind her, raising the surgical knife. It trembled but did not falter as it drew itself across her throat. Anna could not help but let out a tiny gasp as the Desian's body went limp in front of her. She grasped the guard beneath the arms and dragged her to the vat, shaking all over. This kill wasn't her first, but it was her first in a long time.

She hoped her son wasn't looking. She hoped he was hidden so far under the laundry that he couldn't see or hear a thing. She didn't notice a peep from him as she dropped the body in the vat of bleach. She stood, trying not to breathe in the scent of blood and other chemicals too heavily, and watched the liquid bubble a delicate pink. She thought she was going to be sick for a moment, but she overcame her nausea and wiped the blade on her sleeve.

_This is for him_, she told herself.

"Lloyd," she said quietly, and he emerged from the laundry pile. "Come here." He did.

The vat was located directly under the vent. Anna leaned over the boiling container and looked up. It seemed like she would be just able to pull herself up. Her one-handedness would undoubtedly prove a difficult obstacle, but she would have to overcome it; she had come too far already to turn back now. She would lead her son out of this place.

Above the vat, the fumes billowed, dense and suffocating, worse than usual now that the fan was out of commission. She stepped down from the vent and took her son's hand. "You're going to have to listen to me very carefully," she told him. "We're going to crawl up that vent and to the outside. Now, I'm going to go up first, then I'm going to reach down and pull you up. For the sake of all the gods, _do not_ fall into that vat. If you do, I'll strangle you." He nodded, gulping. "At the end of the vent, there's a fan. Normally it'd be spinning so fast it'd cut your limbs off before you can get to it, but since you're such a smart boy you've disabled it. I'm going in front so I can kick it out of the way. We should be just above the ground, so as soon as we hit the outside, we run. We run and we do not stop for anything. _Anything_, do you hear me?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"Okay. Good. Ready or not, here we go." She stepped up onto the vat, placing a foot on either side of it and reaching up into the vent to grasp the kink in the metal. "Oh, and Lloyd," she called down. He looked up at her with scared eyes. "Try not to breathe up here. It's not going to be pleasant." She steadied herself before jumping as high as she could.

She felt herself slip several times, but somehow managed to haul herself up into the vent. Her good arm grasped the ledge, and her stump kept swinging uselessly, banging into the sides of the vent, trying to find purchase. Shaking, sweating, panting with the effort, she barely pulled herself over the ledge. She rolled to a rest, her feet still hanging down toward the vat. Then came the difficulty of turning herself around.

She curled her spine, reached toward her toes, and slowly, slowly managed to put her head where her feet had been. Her lungs and eyes burned with the heavily bleached air, and her skin started to itch terribly. She resisted the urge to cough and scratch and rub her eyes, and instead looked back down through the vertical shaft and into the bubbling liquid, which was now stained a dark pink with the blood of the Desian.

She hoped her son would not notice. When he climbed up to the sides of the vat, trembling, she was sure he would look down into the liquid and know that his own mother had killed a woman and dumped her in there. But he didn't. He kept his eyes on her, his hands around the edge of the vent, balancing himself.

"You need to reach up and grab my hand," she said.

He reached, and barely grasped the tips of her fingers.

"You have to jump," she told him. If she was to be perfectly honest with herself, she wasn't sure that he would make it. Gods above, what would she do if she let go of him, if he slipped out of her grasp and fell into those chemicals? She didn't want to think about it. And apparently neither did he.

He just reached up and threw himself toward her, grasping her wrist with one hand while the other slid along the side of the vent, trying to keep him steady. He eventually came to a stop halfway up the vertical part of the vent, his back against one side, hand holding himself still against the opposite one. He sat in frictional suspension for a moment, before Anna tugged him toward her.

It was out of sheer motherly desperation that she was able to pull him up. She had to do it inches at a time, since she had to scoot backward through the vent to make room for him as he crawled up to her. By the time he got himself situated on the horizontal, his eyes were red, his skin clammy and sweaty, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. She could tell he held in his coughs as desperately as she did.

She gave him an encouraging nod, then started to scoot backwards through the vent. It was excruciatingly slow progress, but when her toes touched the still fan, she knew that she had done it. She wiggled until she lay on her back, feet against the fan blades, and glanced down at her exit. She could see a green blur beyond those blades—it must be the forest.

Oh gods, she was so close…

She lifted her leg as much as she could in that cramped space and thrust it out at the fan. It didn't budge. She kicked it again, and again, and again.

Around her thirtieth strike, the fan gave way, the blade snapped and twisted slightly. It took only a few more kicks for the blade to tumble off completely, and they had a crawlspace big enough to squeeze through. Anna wiggled down toward the broken fan, pushing her feet out first, then her legs, then her hips, and finally, her feet touched solid ground. She pulled the rest of her body out of the hole, and turned to help her son.

He slid out of the vent head-first and facing down, the same way he had been born. Anna caught him in her arms, and checked to make sure he was all right. He coughed, rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and surveyed the outside world. The way he looked up at the night sky had such an air of newness about it that she might've guessed he was seeing the world for the first time in his life.

She wanted to let him stare up at the stars forever, but now was not the time. She grabbed his hand, kissed it. "Are you ready?" she whispered to him.

He nodded.

"Then let's go. Don't stop. Don't ever look back."

She pulled him toward the trees, toward the outside world, breaking into a sprint.


	8. To the South

They weren't halfway to Iselia before the screech of the ranch's distant alarm rent the silent night air. Anna knew that either someone had marked their absence, or had found one of the Desian victims she left in her wake. She wondered who was discovered first: the physician and his assistant locked in her room, or the dead woman in the laundry vat. She hoped that Kvar had been the first to stumble upon the revelation of her escape. The look on his face would've been priceless.

But all that was behind her now, so there was no use thinking too much about it. Instead she focused on keeping her son close to her. She squeezed his hand to comfort him, since he'd burst into tears at the sound of the alarm.

"Are they going to find us?" he sobbed.

"No," she answered. The surety in her voice calmed him. In truth, she felt like breaking down and crying with him, but she knew that if she could trick him into a sense of security it would be easier for them both.

She had wanted to stop in Iselia and pilfer some supplies from the villagers, but she knew they had no time for that now. She might be able to circumvent the village, grabbing a few rags of laundry from a wire where she found one, but that would be as much as she could do. She didn't have the time to break into someone's cellar and steal food.

Considering the alternatives, she was glad they had ended up at Forcystus' ranch—close to civilization, nestled in a mild pocket of temperate forest. Anna didn't want to imagine navigating the mountains of the Palmacosta ranch, or enduring the bitter winds that swept across the Asgard wilderness. She certainly didn't want to think about the remote island ranch. Any escapees lucky enough to make it to the tempestuous sea immediately found themselves either drowned under the waves or eaten by the carnivorous fish that prowled the area. It seemed the only way to escape that ranch was to die.

But she had a chance, here and now, with her son, as long as they kept moving. The chemically treated air in the laundry facility left their breath shallow and their sight blurry, but they stumbled onward, hand-in-hand, through the dark streaks of tree trunks. They ran in silence, driven by the adrenaline-fueled fear of capture.

Anna kept glancing behind her, but never dared to slow down. Behind every waving branch creaking in the wind, she saw shadows of soldiers pursuing them, and with every snap of a twig beneath their feet, she heard the shots of rifles, aimed toward their backs. It was these willful hallucinations that drove her onward when her legs burned with the agony of exhaustion, or when her lungs felt like they were about to squeeze out their last breath and collapse into nothing. It was the overwhelming fear of being caught that forced them all the way down the mountain and into the village of Iselia. When they arrived at the outskirts of the town, not even little Lloyd had uttered a word of complaint. He just panted, sweating at his mother's side, afraid to let go of her hand.

"Here we go," Anna whispered, and crept forward, toward a house glowing with warm light. She glanced down at her son, who stared at the house with a pained expression. She didn't know if he could even conceive of the idea of a home or family, or if he remembered deep in his past, he had had one himself. She could not think about such things now.

She slipped to the clothesline and snatched a few garments. She knew she didn't have time to be picky, so she just grabbed a few flags of cloth blowing in the soft wind, and brought them back to the shadows of the trees. They turned out to be a woman's loose frock and a child's nightgown. Not ideal, but they would have to do.

"Here, Lloyd. Put these on. We'll leave our uniforms here, so they think we've hidden somewhere in the village. That'll throw them off our trail for a little while." He took the nightgown from her and pulled off his clothes. Her stomach turned when she saw his ribs cast shadows over his grey skin, but she helped him into his new clothes. When he slipped into the gown, he looked like such a misfit she would've liked to laugh at him. But she knew she couldn't.

She pulled on her own voluminous dress and again took her son's hand. They left their old clothes piled up and discarded beneath the low branches of a fir tree, and again set off toward the south.

Anna did not know where she was going, or how far—just as long as she delayed her capture for a little longer. She would keep running, keep stumbling on her weak legs, dragging her weak son, until they either reached safety or died in pursuit of it. She would not go back there, and she certainly would not let them take her son back there. She would rather they both meet their end in the wilderness.

So despite the roaring in her stomach, despite the ache in her bones, the burning of her muscles, she ran on. She did not stop, she did not slow down to alleviate her own wheezing or that of her son, she just continued running southward. Lloyd followed silently, not daring to let go of her, seemingly not caring about his sore muscles or empty stomach. He only obeyed his mother in silence, as he had obeyed others for so many years.

Together, they made their way past the village and into the wilderness. Neither looked back.

* * *

"Well, it appears some damage control is in order," Forcystus said. He stared at the two discarded sets of Desian clothing, piled neatly under a tree: one children's prison uniform, one medical coat for an adult.

"Take care of it, then," Kvar snapped back at him. "It was under your watch that they escaped."

Leave it to Kvar to refuse to take responsibility for the same mistake twice. Perhaps A012 and her son wouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave if Kvar had not popped in and informed them of their transfer to his ranch. Kvar was not known to be well-liked among either his subordinates or his subjects at the ranch. If he had kept his mouth shut, perhaps both the Angelus Project subjects would still be in custody.

But that was in the past. At this juncture, the best he could do was clean up the mess and try to recapture the escapees. He had not had the privilege of tracking down an escapee before, since no one had managed to slip through his fences. He wasn't well-versed in any procedure that would guarantee their return. Perhaps Magnius would know what to do, since he had the bad habit of letting his prisoners slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve. They individually meant so little to him that he did not care about his quota. He had the entire population of Palmacosta at his disposal—any lost subjects could easily be replaced. Besides, he enjoyed having a reputation, and who better to spread it around than those who had been imprisoned at his ranch?

Kvar had minimal experience when it came to escapees. He had only had one subject slip away in the history of his ranch: A012. And even then, he could not track her down, not until Kratos had basically lead them to her. Forcystus hoped that the seraph in question would not show his face now—a search party this big for two escapees was a little too extravagant to suggest they had been normal, low-value stock. He might harbor suspicions. But Forucysuts knew he didn't have to worry too much about that possibility. The likelihood that Kratos would return to Sylvarant after so many years cooped up on Derris-Kharlan was slim to none. He seemed to have very little interest in the world these days.

Forcystus had scouts combing the woods around the ranch in every direction—he figured they couldn't have gone far. After all, they were only human, and if his estimates were correct they hadn't escaped until late last night. The woman's body they found in the bleach vat had been partially eaten away, but they could tell she had not been dead for long. It was strange to find such carnage in the wake of A012; she had not struck Forcystus as a woman capable of such a thing. But underestimating your enemy is the best way to have her outwit you—he had learned this lesson more than once. Anna was clever, she was experienced in the art of slipping away unnoticed, she was brutal and determined and full of that inexplicable strength that only human mothers seemed to possess. He knew just by looking at her that she could do anything for that child. And now, somewhere in this wilderness, or even more likely, somewhere in Iselia, she and that weak little boy were hiding.

The search parties that scoured the woods had sent back no good news. The first sign they had found of the two escapees, besides the evidence at the ranch, was this pile of discarded clothing. Forcystus bent to pick up the rags and hand them to a subordinate officer.

"Burn them," he told the man. "We've no need for them." The officer nodded and ran off with the tattered clothes, and Forcystus was glad to have them removed from his sight. When the man returned, he told him to assemble his team and move south through the woods. "Patrol from here to the river. If you see them, bring them back to me alive. If not, bring word of any sign of them at all. Get going."

The majority of his search faction continued past Iselia into the woods, but Forcystus had a feeling that those two were hiding somewhere in the village. He knew that it was easier to find humans among other humans, contrary to what would seem to be logical. They usually did a piss-poor job of hiding one another. There was always one person willing to sell out his fellow man, or one who was too scared to tell anything but the truth.

"They might have skipped Iselia altogether and headed toward Luin," he told Kvar. "The bridge is quite close. There are also small docks here and there—they could've found a boat."

"I think that if they fled east they'd be more likely to end up in Hima," Kvar answered, eyes scanning the shadow of the trees, as if expecting to see them there. "I don't suppose A012 would miss me so much she'd return to my very doorstep."

"It could be that's what she wants you to think."

Kvar's jaw clenched. "She is known to be quite the duplicitous little rat."

He had calmed down since the initial report of the incident, but he still had that angry look in his eye, and the frustrated flush of his cheek, made worse by A012's punch to his face. Focystus couldn't help but feel a dash of pride on her behalf—and perhaps a little jealousy. If he had done the same he'd have unplugged an unmanageable wellspring of infighting, so when he looked at Kvar's reddened cheek, he felt as if she'd done him a favor. A favor that, unfortunately, would not stop him from tracking her down and dragging her back to her proper place.

"Kvar," Forcystus said, and the irritable man turned to him.

"What?"

"Come to Iselia with me. We're going to interrogate the townsfolk."

Kvar appeared momentarily mollified by the idea of tormenting an entire village, so he followed Forcystus down the path toward the town. By the time they arrived, their men had roused the town and summoned all the residents to the central square.

"What is the meaning of this?" The whole place was abuzz with questions, but it was the mayor whose queries were loudest. They were more outright demands than anything, since he was always quick to anger at any perceived slight. "What happened to the treaty we had? What happened to non-aggression?"

"Calm yourself, sir," Forcystus said, staring at the man's thick brown mustache and wondering how long it would take him to pick it apart, one hair at a time. "We're not here on military business."

"Then what the hell are your soldiers doing gallivanting around my town?"

"We're looking for a pair of escapees."

"We haven't seen anyone. Have we?" He looked around to his subjects for support, and they all shouted in agreement. No one had seen any prisoners nearby, and they insisted they certainly weren't harboring any. "See? Move on with your search."

"I'm afraid not," Kvar said. "We have found their clothes under a tree within the limits of the village. It is our suspicion that one of you is harboring them. You have given them clothes, and we know you have given them a place to stay."

An indignant outcry from the crowd. Of course they wouldn't harbor an escapee. That would be inconvenient for them. Forcystus couldn't help but hold them in contempt for their petty devotion to self-preservation. Humans in any world were like that. All the same, all selfish.

"You have an hour to offer up the person or persons responsible for assisting these criminals," Kvar said. "Or else we will consider it a violation of the non-aggression treaty."

Forcystus was unsure as to the legitimacy of that statement, but he let Kvar keep talking. When he was on a tirade, it was best if he felt that he was in control. It made the lives of all around him much easier. Forcystus just let Kvar shoot each and every villager an evil glare, then followed him out of the town and back to the gathering soldiers.

They took lunch while they waited for an answer from the village. They also kept an eye out for any message from the units who had gone south and east. The northern and western factions had brought no news, and Forcystus didn't expect them to. He and Kvar sat around the whole hour with no word from any of them. It seemed that his soldiers were unable to catch the escapees, and the villagers, in an unusual show of solidarity, were not going to give up one of their own.

"I suppose we ought to burn Iselia to the ground," Kvar suggested.

"Maybe that's an overreaction," Forcystus replied. "Let's just go see if they have any excuses."

When they made their way back to the village, they found the residents still occupying the square, arguing heatedly among one another.

"Well, look at them," Forcystus started. "They certainly do look guilty."

"That's unsurprising. They _are_ guilty."

"Then we'll have to ask them if they want to save their village or not."

Forcystus ordered one of his soldiers to fire his rifle into the air until the crowd quieted down. "Listen up. We know that if none of you are hiding the escapees right now, you at least assisted them in their journey. Are you willing to give up the parties responsible for the violation of our treaty?"

An unshakable silence swept through the crowd. Forcystus eyed each individual, their greedy eyes, the way they huddled like sheep in a herd. Bile rose in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow it back down.

He sighed. "Very well then. I regret that it has come to this." He turned to his men. "Set it on fire."

"But what about our agreement?" came the mayor's shaky voice. "You signed that treaty!"

Forcystus turned to him and smiled, but said nothing. It was funny how humans thought they had power here. How they thought that the Desians had drafted the treaty out of concern for their own well-being. It was an agreement of convenience, nothing more. They could've easily wiped Iselia off the face of the map anytime they wanted. And now they were doing just that.

He turned to go, ignoring the outcries of the village people. Before he left the town altogether, he leaned in to the overseeing officer and whispered: "Spare the Chosen as a gesture of mercy. Let her escape. We wouldn't want Yggdrasill breathing down our necks."

"Yes, sir."

Forcystus didn't have much else to do but sit back and watch Iselia burn. He watched the flames rise up to the clear blue sky, filling it with smoke and the screams of the townspeople. He lay his chin in his hand, thinking. There was no word from the unit deployed southward, and it seemed that none of the people of Iselia had been harboring the escapees. Apparently, they had both disappeared into thin air. Not to mention they had navigated the ranch like they had intimate knowledge of it. Granted, L033 did have extensive familiarity with inner-workings of the building, but there was no way in hell _he_ had orchestrated the escape. They must've been working together, but perhaps they had help…

"Kvar," Forcystus started. He had to speak loudly over the echoing cries of the townspeople trying to save their homes.

Kvar looked up from the book he had opened on his lap. "What?"

"You don't suppose that those two have received any help from Kratos recently."

"You mean, I don't suppose that Kratos had anything to do with their escape?"

"You know what I mean."

Kvar closed his book and sighed. "I can't claim to know the mind of such a madman. It's possible he helped them, though unlikely. He hasn't been to Sylvarant for years, so I highly doubt he even knows his family is still alive. However, I do admit that there is a slim chance he could've orchestrated their escape from afar."

Forcystus stretched, watching the flames of what was once Iselia lick at the sky. "Perhaps we should take the time to interrogate him. Though, perhaps not. Even with his recent transgressions, Lord Yggdrasill seems to trust him well enough. He wouldn't be pleased if we insinuated his betrayal. He does appear to bear a strange sort of love for the man."

"Love? I wouldn't call it that."

"What would you call it, then?"

"Perhaps a begrudging respect. An acknowledgement of his usefulness. You know, Lord Yggdrasill's opinion for an underling is directly contingent on utility."

"Still, I should expect Kratos to fall under at least some suspicion as to his involvement in all this. It only makes sense. He helped A012 escape last time, what would stop him from doing it this time?"

"Firstly, if he doesn't know his family is alive then he can't go out of his way to assist them. If he is indeed involved in some way then we have failed our duty to keep him blissfully unaware. Then it would be our fault." Kvar flipped through a few pages thoughtfully. "If he is knowledgable of the whereabouts of his family, then no doubt he has crawled back to them with his tail between his legs the way he crawled back to us so many years ago."

Forcystus sighed. "I can't believe that Yggdrasill would take him back so quickly. He's not one to forgive easily. If one of us betrayed the cause and mingled with the rabble, we wouldn't be standing here today."

"Oh, no doubt. But Kratos is free to do what he does best: flit between camps on a whim. A turncoat if I ever saw one." Kvar leaned in, and his voice lowered to a whisper. "You know, I suspect he'll fall in with the Renegades any day now."

Forcystus could not see that. "I don't think so. He may be an incorrigible double-crosser, but he's smart enough to see the Renegades for the flimsy, ineffectual bunch that they are. If he does have designs against Lord Yggdrasill, which I highly doubt, he's at least not in bed with the _those_ mongrels."

"I suppose you have a point. Kratos was always a sensitive man. It wouldn't suit him to be a laughingstock of Cruxis." The look Kvar gave Forcystus told him that he knew more than he let on. It was not a surprising look, since it was one Kvar seemed to wear often. Forcystus let the comment go and instead turned to watch the buildings burn. Regardless of all the chaos and inconvenience that had transpired that day, it was still an unarguably lovely afternoon.

* * *

"Look."

It was the first thing her son had said that day. He was squatting behind a bush, pointing timidly through the thorny branches. Anna followed his gaze and saw a small covered wagon, rumbling along the secluded forest path. They had taken care to avoid the main roads, and this company had come as a surprise.

Anna thought quickly, intensely. If they stepped out of the underbrush and begged for food, it was possible that the driver would know they were the recent fugitives from the ranch. Possible, but not guaranteed. He might've not even heard the news. He might not care, or recognize them as escapees. Their stolen clothes were ill-fitting, but at least they weren't prison uniforms.

She looked down at her starving son and decided to take a chance. She stepped out onto the road and waved down the caravan, calling out in a hoarse, friendly voice.

"Hello there!"

The caravan slowed and stopped, and a man nodded down at her from the front seat. "What can I do for you?"

She smiled her most ignorant smile. "I'm sorry to bother you. I was just taking my son to find a place to relieve himself, and we got separated from my husband. We must've gotten lost looking for him."

The caravaner smiled knowingly. "Then I suppose you'd like to tag along until we run into him again. I'm heading south, if that info's of any use to you."

"Us, too." She bowed deeply. "Son, come on out now." He crept through the bushes like a frightened animal and stood in the shadow of the caravan. Anna suspected he had never seen anything like it before in his living memory. They had come across wagons many times in their travels, but he probably had been too young to remember.

"Hop up, then, ma'am. Your son can sit in the back."

She goaded Lloyd into crawling in the bed of straw at the back, and stepped up to the front of the wagon. She threw herself down beside the driver with a sigh of relief. When he urged his team into a quick trot, Anna was pleased with the pace. _This is probably faster than I could run with my little boy_, she thought. For the first time in a long while, she felt herself relax a little. She purposefully kept herself from glancing back over her shoulder, in case he noticed she was expecting pursuers.

The driver was friendly enough, and after a few minutes he glanced over at her, taking in her skinny form, her aura of weakness. "I take it you're probably peckish," he said. "I'll stop for dinner in an hour or two, and you can help yourself."

"Thank you." Anna was too hungry to muster the pride to refuse. "I'm sorry we have no money to pay you for your kindness, but our supplies are with my husband, you see."

"So, where were you headed?"

She thought for a moment, filing through believable outsets and destinations. "We're originally from Hima."

"Adventurers, are you?"

"We were miners. But my husband got tired of it: he said his lungs couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take it either—my arm got caught in one of the machines. They had to cut it off, so I couldn't work anymore. I decided I didn't want my son to grow up in such a dangerous place. I didn't want him to die young, and I didn't want his parents to die young either, you know? We wanted to be around for him."

The man nodded.

"So we packed up and left. We're heading to Triet now. See what we can make of ourselves."

"That sounds like a plan."

She paused for a while. "So, what do you do?"

"I work in trading. I'm just the delivery guy, mostly. I'm bringing a few kilos of grain down to Triet. I like my work well enough; I like traveling, I like being alone in nature. But I'm not so fond of sticking to the trade routes—there's an explorer in me, you know. What I truly do for fun is…" He turned a little red. "I like to catalogue animals. You see so _many_, you know, on all these different roads. So many different kinds it's impossible to keep track." He laughed. "So I'd like to keep track."

"Are you a scientist?" Anna didn't have to fake curiosity.

"Trained, but not in practice. I graduated with a degree in biology from a college back in Asgard, but I never got a job doing it. I'd like to start again, you know, doing what I love. But trading isn't bad. The pay is good and I get to see a lot of the world."

"Well, I can speak from experience that getting a new start is never a bad thing."

He turned to her and smiled. "Thanks. That's actually really encouraging to hear."

They stopped for lunch under an apple tree and Lloyd nearly went insane with wonder. He sat beneath it and stared straight up, mouth hanging open. "They grow up there," he whispered to himself, more than once.

The man ate his meal and occasionally glanced up at Anna's bizarre child. "Not many fruit trees up in Hima?"

Anna shook her head. "Forgive my son. He's... a little slow." She called to him and he came over and sat beside her. When she handed him his food she secretly thanked all the gods that the Desians had at least taught him to eat with a spoon. He enjoyed his food in stunned silence. It was a simple meal of cold potato stew and a few pieces of stale bread, but with every bite he smiled like he was tasting ambrosia of the gods. She couldn't help but ruffle his hair at the stupid grin on his face.

"So, you don't mind if I accompany you all the way to Triet, do you?" she asked.

"Not at all. The company's nice." He took another bite. "And it's best if you don't hang around these parts. I heard the Desians violated the non-aggression treaty with Iselia."

Anna went cold. "Where did you hear that?"

"Some woman lost her house in the raid. She was going to the countryside, to live with her uncle on his farm for a while. We met on the road just this morning and she told me."

Anna feigned ignorance, but not remorse. "That's horrible," she said. _Who am I kidding? I knew the price we would pay to save ourselves. _She thought of all the people at the ranch who would be punished for letting them escape. She imagined the guards who would be executed for their negligence, the prisoners who would be tortured and murdered in order to squeeze information out of them. She knew that she would leave a trail of chaos in her wake—she always did. As long as she could keep her son out of that wake, she would have to accept it.

"Are you sure your husband isn't out there searching for you, though?" the man continued. "What if the Desians find him?"

"Oh, he can take care of himself. And so can I. He'll come find us at Triet, I just know it."

The man paused, apparently mulling over this information. "He sounds like a capable man."

Anna's lip curled, just slightly. "He is."

When they stopped for the night, the man lent them a few blankets in place of a bedroll and let them sleep under the wagon. When Anna lay down beside her son and closed her eyes, she felt the weight of two days without sleep drop on her all at once. She drifted off, holding her child, until she felt him shake with sobs.

She opened her eyes and saw his tearstained face in the shadowy moonlight. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he replied. She tugged him close. Perhaps seeing the outside world for the first time was overwhelming. She couldn't blame him for reacting as he did. He had been so good, he had been quiet and quick and had never complained through their whole flight. He had done everything she said, and they had made it this far. Maybe the adrenaline that had kept them both running for two days straight was finally wearing off, and the reality of the whole situation was dawning on him, all at once and without mercy. She couldn't imagine the thoughts that must be scurrying their way hastily through his head.

_Gods above, he didn__'__t even know fruit grew on trees. _

She began to hum an old song that she had sung to him when he was little. She remembered all the words, and the tune—after all, in her mind, it had been only a couple weeks ago that she was cradling him in her arms, rocking him to sleep.

Now, at eight, he was a little big to carry, but she still held him close and started to sing.

"I see two sparrows, flying high." She waited for Lloyd to sing with her, hoping that somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered the song. He didn't.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, tears still flowing.

"Because this is your part of the song. You're supposed to sing, 'Where are they flying, mother mine?' See, I'll start over." She took a breath. "I see two sparrows, flying high."

He sniffed and squeaked, "Where are they flying, mother mine?"

"They're flying back home, to nest for the night—now you say 'Where is their nest, mother mine?'—go on."

"Where is their nest, mother mine?"

"It is far to the south, dear child."

By this time Lloyd picked up on the pattern. Or else deep in his conscious, he remembered. "How far to the south, mother mine?"

"South of the mountains capped with frost, south of the fields waving like the sea, south of the forest whose wind shakes the pines, south of the sands that like diamonds shine," she finished, and he curled up in her arms. He had stopped crying, but she didn't know if it was because of her singing, or if he was merely thinking deeply about the strange new concepts of mountains, sea, sand and diamonds. If she was able to keep them both out of Desian hands, she would show him all of these things.

Except for maybe diamonds, but she would try her best.


	9. II: Years Later

II: Songs of Desert and Sea

* * *

The cloudless sky glowed a bright white-blue—a color that could only be found high above the endless sands of the Triet desert. Travelers passing through the town inevitably look up in awe at the sheer vastness of it; poets the world over have tried and failed to describe in words the impossible brightness of the Trieti sky. It is common knowledge among artists that there is no mix of paint rich enough with which to portray the desert landscape.

Sitting like a blemish on the ubiquitous white sands, the old ruins stood tall, dark and uncompromising. When all other ruins had been buried by wind and sand, worn down to nothing, the black bricks and slabs of marble had endured the ages, proudly jutting toward the bright sky. The young man that sat at the western wall was not taken in by their majesty, was unconcerned with the inexplicable sky, the purity of the sand. He seemed so blasé about his surroundings one could've easily mistaken him for a native. He was hunched over, head covered with a white cloth to keep the sand out of his dark brown hair, concentrating on a tiny object in his hands.

"Hey, Lloyd, don't get carried away!"

The young man looked back at his companion, similarly dressed and similarly tanned, and scowled. Of course, because of his protective shemagh, his disapproval went unseen, the curses under his breath went unheard. "Don't get carried away," he mumbled. "I'll show you carried away." He twisted two wires together and set the fuse in place. Satisfied with the layout of the circuit, he closed the metal shell and stood up. He lay the shining object—the last of his little creations—on the ground next to the ruin's black stone wall and stood back to admire his work.

About every three feet or so lay a small oblong device, metallic sheaths dulled by the sandy winds. The little things nestled silently among the cracks and crevices of the unprotected western wall of the old ruins. In a few moments, when Lloyd willed it, they would detonate in sequence and tear the wall to pieces—or at least that's what he had planned. There was always a wave of worry that would wash over him the moment before he tested his devices, but on the rare occasions when they worked perfectly, the rush of power and excitement was worth the anxiety.

Convincing Barra to invade the desert ruins had been a little bit of a chore. At first he said that it was impossible to get inside, that only the Chosen could open the doors, and he was damn sure none of _them_ were the Chosen. Lloyd had insisted that with his proclivity for electronics and explosives he would be able to find a way inside.

Then Barra said that it was some sort of sacrilege to enter the ruins, that it was detrimental and disrespectful to the ritual of the Chosen to sneak into the holy sanctuary. This excuse stuck Lloyd as halfhearted. No one had seen the Chosen for years—the common theory was that she died in Iselia when Forcystus invaded the town. Either way, she wouldn't be needing the ruins anytime soon.

Then Barra said it was too dangerous, and they just laughed at him. Eventually, thanks to Lloyd's technical prowess and his friend Ezra's persistent nagging, Barra had given in. Not only that, but he had come with them.

He now sat a few dozen feet away from the wall, dark eyes narrowed above his white wrap, hands crossed over his muscular chest. He still didn't believe Lloyd could build something powerful enough to blow the side off the mausoleum, but he had always been the sort of man to take Lloyd up on his bets and boasts. When he lost, it was always with grace, but when he won, he would dangle his victory over Lloyd's head for days afterward.

So Lloyd was determined not to let him win. When he rigged up his series of tiny bombs, he had checked and checked again that everything was perfect. He made sure the fuse would blow at just the right time, made sure that the objects themselves were just small enough to be carried, and just big enough that the timing mechanism wouldn't overheat. He was sure they would work. He had tinkered around for so many years with wires and powders and metals that he knew that he had the right combination, all stuffed into those egg-like things, to blow the wall off the ruins. Barra had promised to buy him a drink if he could successfully get them inside the building. Ezra had promised him nothing. He just stood back uselessly and told him not to get carried away.

Lloyd looked over his setup, satisfied. He gave his friends an insulting hand gesture that told the two of them to find something good and solid for cover, so they jumped behind a fallen column halfway buried by white sand. Lloyd set off the timing mechanism that linked all the bombs and ran for cover, diving behind the pillar and covering his ears.

Barra and Ezra looked to one another before also covering their ears. They waited as Lloyd moved his mouth, counting down silently. When he reached zero, he scrunched his face up, preparing for the inevitable blast, but nothing happened. He frowned and sat up to look at the giant wall, still standing strong.

"Ha! I knew you couldn't do it," Barra said. Now sporting a few grey hairs, he enjoyed nothing more than getting the better of his juniors.

"Just wait," Lloyd said. He was still covering his ears, perhaps more out of hope than safety.

"Should we go fix 'em?" Ezra asked. He stood and threw a leg over the pillar. "They're broken."

"Sit your ass back down," Lloyd told him. "They'll work."

"Nah, you set 'em up wrong. You do everything wrong." He had just thrown his other leg over the rounded top of the column when, with an ear-shattering boom, the entire wall crumbled to dust. Ezra shrieked and fell to safety, landing on his back in the sand. A few bricks of black stone flew over the pillar, followed by a billow of smoke and the sound of pebbles tumbling down the rubble.

When Lloyd was sure it was safe to stand up, he peeked over the column and saw the remains of the wall in a cloud of dust and smoke. He let out a triumphant laugh and gestured to Barra. The old man nodded in reluctant acknowledgment.

Lloyd hurdled the pillar, Ezra stumbling shakily after him, into the smoking rubble. He bent down to examine his work, and saw that above the pile of stones and crumbled arches, he'd blown a hole big enough for all three of them to climb through. With Ezra and Barra following closely, he crawled up the rubble and through the rocky opening, sliding down the other side into the darkness of the ruins. Broken rocks crumbled beneath his feet, and a few bursts of sandy wind followed him inside the quiet ruins.

Lloyd's companions slid down to meet him at the bottom of his pile of rubble. It was bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside, since the floor seemed to slope downward into the ground. Lloyd assumed that if this old building had once had any inhabitants, it was probably built underground to keep them cool. The buildings of Triet, fashioned in stone and adobe, usually had floors that sat at least a few feet under the surface, to banish the punishing desert heat. Either the ancient temple had been built in a similar fashion, or it had sunk into the ground over time; Lloyd wasn't sure.

He took a moment to dig for his small electric lamp that he kept in his waistband. He had pilfered it from a pair of visiting Desians, but he had told his mother that he had bought it off a junk-shop man. He knew she didn't like him even loitering near them, and he couldn't blame her. She didn't know Lloyd stole plenty of things from Desians that came into Triet for supplies. They wandered in from their facility somewhere out in the desert, arriving fully armored from the sandy wastes, usually atop one of various types of hovercraft. They almost always minded their own business and didn't bother the townsfolk.

When he and his mother had first arrived in Triet, they had hidden every time the Desians wandered into town, for fear that they would drag them back up to Iselia. But Barra, one of their earliest friends, had assured them that these Desians were not affiliated with a human ranch of any sort, and were generally all right. He didn't know what went on in their desert base, but no one did. All he knew is that in Triet, people weren't crushed under the heel of their tyranny. There were no night raids, no kidnappings, no senseless massacres like there were in other parts of the world.

So they had stayed. When they saw that no one lived in fear, that the trading relationship between the Desians and Triet was harmonious and even mutually beneficial, his mother decided that this place was safer than most towns. Triet also had the added benefit of being an ideal place to hide one's identity. Face coverings were commonplace—in addition to sandstorms occurring quite regularly, even the lightest desert winds could throw a few hundred unwanted grains of sand into an unsuspecting mouth mid-conversation. If Lloyd and his mother hid their faces when Desians were roaming about, no one shot them a suspicious look—especially not the Desians themselves.

Loose-hanging clothing was another advantage of the Trieti lifestyle—his mother would often wear a long, relaxed pleat of silk down her left side to hide her missing arm. It was an ancient style not many townspeople wore, but it was easy to dismiss the appearance of a missing limb on the way the cloth folded over itself. Even when it was easy to notice she was armless on one side, her handicap drew no stares. The desert was harsh and took many things from its inhabitants. It was almost as common to see a missing leg or eye than it was to see a fully intact human being. Lloyd himself had almost lost a few fingers in some of his more daring electrical experiments—and he had been one of the luckier ones. His scarred, rough hands were not uncommon in the area, especially for a boy prone to playing with fire, and no one asked him about them. Everyone seemed to carry at least one blemish or handicap. Barra was left partially blind by an accident he refused to speak of. Ezra was missing part of his right ear, and blamed it on a desert lion, although everyone knew he had lost it to some sort of deranged fruit bat.

Lloyd was tempted to make a quip about bats living in this old ruin just to scare Ezra, but thought better of it. If the kid chickened out now, they'd have two fewer hands to carry out whatever treasure they found in here. And with that wall blown in, it was only a matter of time before bandits and other hunters of valuables came by and cleaned the place. They had to grab everything they possibly could.

Lloyd shook his electric lamp, trying to coax the bulb into working. It was a tempestuous little thing, prone to throwing fits and then sputtering out. He smacked it against his leg, praying for light, until Barra grabbed his arm gently.

"I don't think you need that. Look over there."

Lloyd squinted, and he could barely make out a red flicker of light glowing dimly at the end of the dark hall. He cautiously stepped toward it, Barra and Ezra in his wake. He drew both of his knives and held them up defensively. If another party of treasure hunters had already made their way in here, no doubt it would come to blows over the valuables. But when he arrived at the source of the light, he replaced his knives and frowned.

"The torches are all lit."

"Who did that?" Ezra asked.

"They've been like this the whole time," Barra said, somewhat mysteriously.

"No they haven't," Lloyd said. "When was the last time someone was here?" The last journey of the Chosen of Regeneration had been decades ago. The last successful journey, centuries. Unless someone broke in, there had been no one here for years.

Barra shook his head. "It's because Efreet lives here. He keeps all the torches lit."

"No he doesn't." Lloyd's automatic response to any of Barra's statements seemed to be a negation of it. His mother thought their bickering was adorable. "He doesn't even exist."

Barra shot him a disappointed look. "Then who keeps the torches lit, little man?"

Lloyd shrugged and just moved on, down the narrow passageway and deeper into the ruins. The whole place dimly flickered with the light of the small fires. The dust that coated every surface indicated that no one had been here for years, but the flames danced on, unattended. Lloyd almost conceded that it did seem likely Efreet kept the fire on all these years, if no one else did. He could almost see the little djinn of lore dancing around from flame to flame, stoking them. He didn't have time to retreat into his fantastical reverie, since a call from Ezra brought his thoughts back to the present.

"Hey! Over here!" Ezra was kneeling at the foot of a statue of what appeared to be a headless woman, and fiddled earnestly with her pedestal. "There's something down here. It's like… a door or… something." He grabbed the statue's base and pulled. With a deep scraping of stone, the base shifted a few inches.

"It looks like a passage leading somewhere," Lloyd said, peering at the crack between the statue's base and the black rock wall.

"To untold riches is where it leads," Ezra replied, and redoubled his efforts. Barra and Lloyd joined him on either side and tugged at the statue until it had moved a little more. When the base tipped into a crack in the floor, they couldn't move it any farther.

Barra peeked down into the crack. "There's a room down there. Lloyd, you go. You're the only one scrawny enough to fit."

Lloyd took the compliment in stride and slipped down into the hole. He had to blow out all the air in his lungs to get his chest to fit, but he managed to push through the crack and touch the floor. When he freed himself from the crack completely, he found the room unexpectedly dark. "There's no torches down here! Toss me down my light!"

With a clatter it came tumbling down, and Lloyd had to search for a few moments in the dark to find it. He twisted its top, watching the bulb light up. Somewhere in its awkward fall through the crack, its components must've jiggled back into place, and it now filled the room with blue, electric light.

"What do you see down there?" Ezra called.

"Lots of stuff! A few statues, so they're out. A couple of… hm…" Lloyd searched the room. Among the larger stone statues too big to pilfer lay smaller treasures. He found a carving of a desert lion, a prayer scroll that he could not read, some instruments that looked to be writing tools. There were a few small decorations trimmed with gold, and those would do nicely. Dozens of idols sat around the room, made of wood or stone or more precious metals, all depicting ancient desert gods. Some he recognized, like the four-tongued serpent of myth, a small statuette of Efreet, gilded and sporting a pair of shining ruby eyes, and a stone bust of what he assumed was Mithos the Hero. Between all these treasures stood a statuette that, despite its humbleness, caught his eye.

It was only a few inches tall, thinly molded of some sort of rosy stone. It depicted a pregnant woman standing tall, eyes to the sky, mouth contorted. Spikes of agate fire jutted from the statuette's base, engulfing the woman's sandaled feet, but she didn't seem to notice. She only looked upward, seemingly with the great hope. Lloyd didn't know what sort of goddess she was supposed to be, but for a moment she reminded him of his own mother.

"Lloyd! You dickin' around in there?" Barra called.

"Yeah," Lloyd answered quickly, before returning to the crack that led down into the treasure room. "There's a ton of stuff down here. I'll pick out anything that's worth anything. It looks like…" He turned and examined the room one more time. "I dunno, looked like some sorta scribe lived down here." He had seen some Martellian scribes pass through Triet. They always carried books and utensils much like the kind that lined this room. "But there are some decorations that are probably worth a bunch."

"Should we pass down the sack?" Ezra asked.

"Nah, the crack'll be too small. Look, I'll just hand up to you what I can fit through. You can put them in the sack up there."

So Lloyd began the long process of retreating to one side of the room, filling his arms with valuables, walking over to the entrance and passing them up, one by one, through the crack. He was careful not to drop anything, and eventually they filled the bag. When Barra called down that they had enough for now, that the burlap was about to split open with the weight of all those stone treasures, Lloyd surveyed his work. He'd done a pretty damn good job cleaning the room of its valuables, and only a few clay statuettes remained between their bigger counterparts. He'd even taken the scroll, although he couldn't read it. Someone out there could, someone with money. Age bred value, and that scroll looked to be at least a few hundred years old. He could make a good amount from it.

When he returned to the crack and turned off his lamp, he heard Barra and Ezra chatting above.

"We still need to divide these up between ourselves," Barra was saying. "And you know… with Lloyd down there… it might be easier to split this just between us two."

"I see what you mean," Ezra replied. "He'd be stuck down there and no one would know." The two of them glanced down at Lloyd.

"Shut up, you two. Now help me up."

Barra was silent for a while before he answered frankly: "No."

"Come on, this isn't funny."

Barra looked over at Ezra and stood up, sack full. Without another word, they disappeared beyond Lloyd's narrow viewing window.

His heart began to race. "Come on! Get back here you double-crossing bastards!" What would his mother say if he died alone in the ruins? _That__'__s what you get for running around with a bunch of thieves!_ He could hear her now. Gods, he'd never be able to give her the statuette of that woman… He sighed and tried to devise ways of getting himself out of there.

He sat back against the wall, crossing his arms. Ezra and Barra had traveled with him for so long, hunted so many treasures with him, he'd never have suspected they would just leave him down here like this. He sat in silence for a few moments before he heard the sound of stifled laughter up above him.

"Hey. Lloyd. You sure give up easily." Ezra couldn't keep it in. He stared down at Lloyd from the crack, shit-eating grin telling him he'd obviously been the first one to break character.

"You're the worst piece of crap on this godforsaken planet," Lloyd told him.

"But gods above, boy, you are so easy to trick!" Barra, too, was leaning over the gap, looking down at him. Lloyd could tell he was still holding in some of that mildly sadistic laughter.

"Just help me up. I deserve a big cut for putting up with you guys."

Barra reached down to grab Lloyd's wrists, though his arms were so big he could barely fit them through the crack. "Well, you get more for going in there to pick out the cream of the crop for us." With a grunt he pulled Lloyd through. Lloyd sucked in, scraping his chest against the crumbling rock before rolling to safety. He crawled out from behind the statue and helped shove it back into place.

"For next time," Barra said. "In case any wanderers get the bright idea to come steal our leftovers."

Lloyd glanced at the sack as the older man threw it over his shoulder. It looked full to bursting, and he marveled at the strength it must take to haul a bag that big around, especially one full of stone carvings. Lloyd had never been very strong. Malnourishment in early childhood, he supposed, or at least that's what his mother said. He didn't have the raw strength that Barra boasted, but he was quick enough. He had at least that going for him.

They made their way down the torchlit hall and back to the collapsed wall. Lloyd followed Ezra and Barra up the slope of the rubble, back out into the sand and the dry air. The sun hung low in the sky by then, so they built a little fire and cooked what they could. Tomorrow they would return to the ruins and see what else they could find. But for now, they opened the sack and divided the treasures like ecstatic children sharing sweets.

They had a ritual of allotting the loot, one they'd had years of practice perfecting. If Lloyd and Ezra vied for the same object, Barra, with his fatherly bearing and booming voice, would scold them both and take it for his own. They were like jackals at a corpse, and Barra got his share first. It was his seniority, perhaps, or the sheer strength of his arms. Both Lloyd and Ezra knew he could snap their necks with one twist of a massive wrist—not that he ever would.

Lloyd claimed the statue of the screaming woman. The others easily gave that one up. Barra said it didn't look like it was worth much, and Ezra just said it gave him the creeps.

"I don't know, I kinda like it," Lloyd said, turning it over in his hands, watching the firelight glint off its agate base. "I think I'll give it to my mother. She's into this kind of supernatural stuff. You know, angels and gods and things."

"Ah, yeah," Ezra said. "Mine's religious too. Might be a mom thing—she goes to the Church of Martel every day. Sometimes twice a day."

"Mine's not religious… at all. She just likes this kind of stuff. She hasn't set foot in a temple in her life. I don't even think she believes in Martel."

"Weird lady," Ezra said.

"You leave poor Anna alone," Barra said. They left the conversation there, since both of them knew Barra would not tolerate even mildly disparaging talk about her. He was like a schoolboy around her—ever since his wife died about a decade ago, he had been a lonesome man. Lloyd brought him over for dinner about every three days or so, just so see if any sort of relationship would ignite. It never did.

The next morning they returned to the ruins and found very little. They took what was left in the scribe room, and made their way as far into the ruins as they could. They didn't find anything of value, at least none that they could pilfer easily. There was no shortage of larger treasures, but they were immobile; massive stone statues, intricate designs engraved into the temple walls, tall pillars carved with such care and attention to detail they must've taken a hundred years to erect. Everything they found within the ruins fascinated and enticed Lloyd, but unfortunately they only had so much room in their sacks. They had little extra space for ancient columns in their humble baggage.

At sunrise on the third day at the ruins, they decided to head home with their spoils. Lloyd found himself relieved—he didn't know how many days of Barra's cooking he could survive. So they made their way from the ruins' entrance to a pile of gravelly black bricks that may have once been a part of the building but had long since crumbled into rubble. They dragged their loot behind it, to the vehicle they had hidden there.

About a year ago, a fair ways south of the Desian facility, the three of them had come across a rusty, discarded hovercraft half buried in the sand. Mechanical junk of Desian origin was not an uncommon sight, especially in those eastern sands, but Lloyd had insisted that he was able to fix it. To Ezra and Barra, it had been an unreasonable declaration of overconfidence, but since they had not found anything of interest for a couple days, they humored him.

It had taken them half a day to pull the thing out of the sand, and another half day before Lloyd reemerged from beneath the machine, hands covered in grease and dust, with a diagnosis. He reassured his companions that if they wanted to soar across the desert in a fraction of the time it took on foot, they would have to go back into town and bring his toolkit.

Ezra and Barra, healthily skeptical but willing to give him a chance, agreed. Lloyd had a reputation as the town mechanic—he had a way with wires and metals that no one could emulate nor explain. Even though working equipment was as rare as precious stones and twice as valuable in terms of practicality, Lloyd always managed to find enough scraps discarded by the Desian base to forge a few functional machines. His mother was known for cooking on a tiny electric stove her son had fashioned for her, rather than the usual coal stoves the rest of the town used.

His toolkit was a trusted companion and source of income—it all started when a pair of Desians sputtered into town on their desert craft. They had run into mechanical trouble and were waiting for a technical unit from the base to come fix their vehicle. Before backup could arrive, a boy probably no older than ten was already halfway into the machinery, twisting and turning this and that simply out of curiosity—or, as only Lloyd and his mother knew, out of habit. The Desians pried him from their vehicle, but not before he had already fixed the thing. After that, they came back often, having him serve as their way station mechanic so that they didn't have to go all the way back to the base for service. They paid him well and were nothing but polite.

The first time Lloyd had fixed a Desian vehicle, his mother had screamed at him the whole night through. She said many things for which she apologized the next day, and she held him as he cried at her vitriol. When they both had calmed, she asked him why he felt the need to help the Desians. She asked him if he hated them for what they did to him, and he answered simply, "I don't know."

The Desians that came to Triet had absolutely no interest in human affairs. They had no proclivity for violence, and seemingly no desire to drag anyone off to human ranches. It was this fact that forced Anna to accept what her son was doing with their vehicles. Besides, they needed the money, badly. For a while, when Anna was between jobs, it was Lloyd's supplementary income from fixing machines that kept them alive. As long as he covered his face around Desians, she allowed him to tinker with their engines for extra cash.

By the time he and his companions found the hovercraft half buried in the sand, Lloyd had experienced plenty of broken vehicles. When he came back to the discarded craft, armed with his tools, it took him two straight days of work to get it up and running again. But the point was that he got it running at all. As the machine sputtered and wheezed and rose off the sand, Ezra and Barra stood in slack-jawed, absolute awe.

It took Lloyd another few days and plenty of dangerous maneuvers to finally learn to drive the damn thing. But once he had, they soared across the shining desert, goggles strapped tight, faces covered against the harsh wind. It had been a freeing experience for all of them.

Still, the machine was old and well-worn and, according to its previous owners, worthy of abandonment. It was prone to breaking down, and not all of the parts worked. There were a few bits of equipment still installed on the control board that Lloyd didn't have the know-how to salvage.

When they approached the sleeping machine with their bag of treasures, they climbed aboard and lay their items in the back. When Lloyd tried to start it, he found that it preferred to doze on. He sighed and crept underneath it, cranking and twisting and nitpicking the innards of the machine. Ezra and Barra sat above, trying to make themselves useful.

Ezra was fiddling with the control board, trying to see if he could wake the craft up just by tickling its knobs. "What's this thing?" he yelled to Lloyd, who was on his back down below the vehicle.

"What does it look like?" Lloyd called back, not willing to leave the valve he was playing with.

"It's kinda like a mound, it's got some stripes down the middle… and there's something beneath them, like a thick woven cloth or something."

"_Oh, _that. No idea what it is. Haven't been able to fix it." Lloyd pulled himself out from under the craft as Ezra fiddled with the knobs. He accidentally pulled one off, and tried to replace it. Lloyd snatched the knob from him and carefully lay it back where it belonged, before hammering the top of the control board for good luck.

When he started the engine, the hovercraft roared to life. But Lloyd was less surprised that his tinkering had worked and more surprised that Ezra's had. The tiny striped mound, usually so silent and mysterious, now produced a vague and unpleasant noise.

"It sounds like wind," Barra said. "But way too close to your ear."

"It's more like metal scraping," Ezra offered, but Lloyd was quick to grab the dials and see if he could make something of the noise. He twisted the knobs until the loud sound dimmed and it ceased making noise at all.

"You broke it again!" Ezra said. "Let me do it, I know how to fix it."

Just as Ezra grabbed for the knob, a voice came from the tiny mound.

"Pride of lions spotted south of Triet, travel with caution."

A pause, as they all stared at the machine.

"Sandstorm heading in from the east, expected arrival at base is 1300 hours."

"Roger."

They all looked at one another. "How is it doing that?" Ezra asked, bewildered.

"I don't know," Lloyd said. "But it sounds like the Desians are talking to each other through it." He desperately wanted to tell them about how there was a similar device at the ranch, where guards could speak to one another over great distances, but he couldn't mention it. His and his mother's past in general was kept secret, their imprisonment at the ranch even more so.

Lloyd feigned total ignorance as to the device's function, but he couldn't hide his desire to learn how it worked. He wanted to fool around with it, to listen in to the Desians' messages, to take it apart and put it back together again. But he stemmed his enthusiasm. Regardless of the wonderful discovery, they still had to make it back to Triet by nightfall, so they sped off into the sun, spouting a cloud of sand behind them. They listened to the mysterious device all the way home.


	10. On Anna and her Son

It was early afternoon when Lloyd and his companions sputtered to a halt at their hiding spot. Lloyd always kept the rejected Desian hovercraft out of sight, in case its previous owners decided it provided their human inferiors with too much power. Freedom of movement, Lloyd discovered, was an infinitely liberating advantage, and he would do all he could to keep that advantage. He'd made sure not many of the townspeople knew about their little vehicle, since everyone around those parts seemed to have an odd propensity for theft. Even Lloyd, but he made a point to steal from only Desians, and of course, the dead.

He hauled his bag of pilfered goods out of the storage compartment of the hovercraft and tossed it over his shoulder. After he helped Ezra and Barra throw a sand-colored tarp over the vehicle, they turned toward Triet. The city was still a few miles away, since Lloyd had insisted they keep their mechanical treasure hidden far away from prying eyes. But the walk back was certainly less grueling than it would've been had they stomped all the way back from the ruins, weighed down by their collection of statuettes and other items.

"Why did I get the writing utensils?" Ezra whined. "I can't even write."

"You foist them on a passing scribe from the Church," Lloyd said. They were known to be ignorant and carry lots of unnecessary cash. "I can take those things off your hands if you want."

"Or me," Barra said. "Those little buggers are gold-trimmed and old as Efreet himself. I'll trade you for 'em."

"No. I'm all right." Ezra often just looked for excuses to complain on their long, quiet trips, perhaps simply for the conversation.

They got back to Triet well before the sun set. Ezra was greeted in the square by his host of younger siblings, and while he was trying to keep them from grabbing his hard-earned loot, Lloyd and Barra strolled past the bazaar toward their respective homes. Barra was one of the luckier citizens who had accumulated enough wealth to build himself a small stone house, seated—as they all were—partway underground. Lloyd and his mother had to make do with a tent on the edge of town, partitioned into a living and sleeping space, floored with ratty, second-hand rugs. Lloyd did not mind his living situation. Although privacy was hard to maintain in such lodging, they had amenities that few people could boast of. His hand-made electric stove, for example.

It was infinitely better than the ranch had ever been. His standards had not been high when his mother carried him, exhausted, into town and begged for a place to stay. No one had given in to her desperate pleas, so she rested in the shadows of the inn, cradling her son and protecting him against the harsh cold that saturated the desert nights. Lloyd didn't really care about the cold, or the sand in his eyes, or the uncomfortable rocks under his body. His mother was close, and when the chilly air and sandy wind prevented them from getting any decent sleep, he stared up at the stars and she told him stories about them all night long.

Barra had found them in the morning on his way out of town. He canceled his trip and sold them his old tent for cheap, helping them set it up and get settled in. They still hadn't managed to pay off their debt to him, but they had since learned that Barra was the sort of man who didn't care. He took them both under his wing regardless, and lent a helping hand when Lloyd found it difficult to adjust to the world outside the human ranch.

Anna taught him many things—which stars were which and what stories lay behind them, the names and tastes of all the fruits and vegetables at the bazaar, how to properly address people by their names and titles (real names! He thought the name girl from the ranch would get a kick out of his situation now), what a home was, in concept and in practice. She taught him how to properly stroke a cat, how to tickle a goat under its chin, how to tell if fruit was ripe to eat, how to greet other children. He had learned how to play with them on his own. It was a slow, awkward process, but when he was smaller he'd let Ezra take the lead and show the weird boy from far away how games were played in Triet.

Barra taught him just as much: how to survive in the desert for weeks at a time, where to find water, which townspeople to avoid, which were friendly. He taught him the history of the area (as far as he could recall), and how to avoid getting swindled. He tried to teach him traditional Trieti knife fighting, but gave up when Lloyd insisted he carry two knives to double his power, which drove his form to hell.

He taught both Anna and Lloyd native Trieti, an ancient and complex language that she grasped right away but Lloyd had a fair bit of trouble with. Only a few people, usually the old ones, communicated exclusively in old Trieti. Most people spoke a dialect shared with the cities of Palmacosta, Asgard, Hima, and at one point, Iselia. Word was that Iselia no longer existed—that its people had scattered and the Chosen had been murdered in her bed by the Desian horde. Once in a while a stranger passing through Triet claimed to be from Iselia, but none of them had much to say about the fate of the town.

Lloyd wasn't allowed to say he had passed through it once. He wasn't allowed to say any things regarding the past, apart from the script his mother had fed him over and over when they first arrived. They were from Hima. She lost her arm in a coal processing accident. They had never been to Iselia, they had never been to a human ranch. It wasn't hard for Lloyd to hide his number tattoo, but he still had to make sure that nobody caught a stray glimpse of the bottom of his foot when he changed his shoes. His mother's tattoo had been inscribed on her left arm, so she had no marks to hide—apart, of course, from her obvious missing limb. But there were many reasons a woman might have a missing arm; there was only one for her to have a number tattoo.

Lloyd had not been sad to see his old life go. Sometimes he stayed awake, thinking of the other children that never made it out, but the thoughts would come and go on the wind and he would have to focus on more important things, like trying to act like a normal human being. At first, he found it tremendously difficult to adjust to the concepts of unrestricted movement, free time, healthy meals, and some degree of privacy. The sights and sounds and abstract ideas of the outside world all both fascinated and terrified him, and in his early years, when things got too complex for him, he'd shut down for hours at a time, just staring at nothing until his mother coaxed him back into reality.

She would try to shower him with little comforts to prevent these episodes. Since Lloyd was unaware of his birthday (and even unfamiliar with the concept of a birthday), she decided to let him choose his own. She brought out a calendar and showed him how dates and years were kept and sorted. She told him about holidays and feasting days, how the moon swelled and disappeared like a living thing, how the seasons worked. In Triet, there were few year-round changes in weather, but there were still seasonal feasts—those were his favorite days. He thought about it for a while, and decided to place his birthday as far away from the feasts as possible. Anna had thought it an interesting choice, but he told her in so many eight-year-old words that he wanted to minimize the consecutive days where celebrations were absent.

"I was impressed with you, I confess," she'd told him recently, when recalling the event. "Knowing that you'd grown up in an environment like a human ranch, I sort of expected you to turn out… you know, simple."

"If you'd wanted me to turn out simple, I would've done it," Lloyd had replied.

"I'd love you either way."

Lloyd _was_ simple, at first. He had a hard time understanding which actions were appropriate and which were not, when he was free to roam and when he wasn't, and other fundamentals that other children had long since mastered. He especially struggled with unspoken rules and abstract societal constructions.

Money had been one of the most difficult concepts for him to grasp. His mother had taken a job as a fruit seller to pay off what she owed Barra for the tent, and when she brought home her first handful of coins, Lloyd had found them meaningless. When she tried to explain to him the idea that these useless disks were used in trade, he only laughed. He looked the tiny metals over and concluded that they were worthless, that you could arguably complete a circuit with one but risk an electrical fire. He knew enough about all the metals used in Desian ranches to know these ones weren't exactly useful material.

His mother insisted that he could trade these for all sorts of things—food, clothes, lodging, drinks, other metals for building things, transportation. He was so stubborn that he did not relent his position until she personally took him to the market and bought him a new pair of shoes with only a few of those coins. From then on, the idea began to sink in. And when it did, he latched onto it like a leech.

The notion that so much power could be held in the palm of his hand amazed him. He had become some sort of alchemist, able to turn these tiny coins into fruit or clothing or whatever he needed. The possibilities for him were endless, and he began to collect the little metal disks wherever he could. Unfortunately, even though the idea of money had grown on him, the idea of property had not, and when he was caught taking a coin purse unabashedly from a stranger's waistband, his mother dragged him home and taught him a valuable lesson about the concept of ownership.

After nearly a decade living in Triet, he still stumbled through the occasional social faux pas, but he had the general grasp of what constituted a society. It was a crude, undeniably Trieti definition of society, but by his late teens he'd managed to navigate the complexities of citizenship and live as normally as he ever could.

It was afternoons like this one, when he walked through town and found he wasn't afraid of everything anymore, that made him realize how far he'd come.

"Are you gonna pop by for a meal later?" he asked Barra.

"Not tonight, no. My cousin is passing through and I promised him I'd give him ample lodging and a meal he wouldn't forget. Now I'm gonna be stuck at home cooking all night."

Lloyd laughed. "He won't forget that meal all right. It'll make him gag for years to come."

"Shut up and go home, boy."

Lloyd waved him a good afternoon and made his way across the curving dirt path to where his tent stood, edges frayed and swaying in the wind. One of the stones that held down the side flap had rolled off, so he replaced it before entering.

"_El__á __maruh bari.__"_ It was an old Trieti greeting along the lines of "Mother, I'm home," that children often used, but Lloyd continued utilizing it well past the age when most kids outgrew it.

His mother sat bent over her tiny electric stove, cooking something spicy. "_Bulanoharan, ahmun.__" _She rehearsed her reply and stood, arm-and-a-half spread wide, folding him into her embrace. "I see you've come back alive from your adventures. An unexpected surprise."

"We found lots of interesting things," Lloyd started, seating himself on a moth-eaten pillow and opening his bag. "I brought you something." He fished out the statue of the woman and handed it to her.

She took a long look at it, a dozen complicated expressions passing over her face. "This is… quaint. I take it you didn't read the inscription at the bottom."

She didn't need to tease him like that. Everyone knew Lloyd couldn't read.

"What does it say? Something pretty, I hope."

"It's an old mantra in Efreet worship. To help a woman through the birthing process." He didn't ask how she knew such things. She had read so much about the various religions and ancient artifacts and supernatural beings of Triet, it seemed she could pull facts out of thin air.

"Oh," was all Lloyd had to say about that.

"I like it," she said. "Look at the stone fire at her feet. It's actually quite beautiful. Disturbing, but beautiful." He grinned at her crookedly, and she mirrored his smile. "One day when you're older and father children, you'll understand why hellfire is symbolic of childbirth." She put the statuette on their one low table, beside the collection of others he had gifted to her over the years.

Lloyd lay back on his pillow, setting aside the rest of the treasure for later sorting. "The food won't be ready in a while," his mother said. "I got a little less today than usual, but you'll live."

"I don't think I will." He reached behind him, in the mess of old pillows where he usually kept his oud, took it out and began to play. Learning an instrument of some sort had been his mother's idea. She had an abundance of natural talent for any artistic expression, but music was one of her strongest inclinations. When she brought him home a shoddy, out-of-tune oud for his twelfth birthday, she had been twice as pleased with it than he had. At first he had not understood the function of the instrument. But she had sung enough songs to him since they had reunited that he had a good grasp of a beat and knew that music itself had many purposes.

Unfortunately, Anna had only one hand, and although she used to be decent at guitar and lyre, she couldn't teach him too much about the oud. There were no music instructors in Triet, so she had to figure out how to tune the thing and show him how to hold down a string. She leaned over him and would use her strong fingers to pin the string to the correct place, instructing him when to strum and how. Eventually he got familiar enough with the workings of the instrument to figure everything out. From then on, he didn't go a day without playing it.

He always liked to accompany her as she sat at the stove and sang. She would cycle through all the songs she had sung to him in childhood, all the songs she had learned abroad as she traveled, all the drinking ditties of Palmacostan sailors and the operatic love songs she had learned when she was leading lady at a theater in the big city.

His fingers followed her smooth, deep voice along the melody lines of a few songs, until his stomach rumbled so much he had to sing a different tune.

He strummed out the simple melody line of a familiar song. "When will dinner be ready, mother mine?" he sang morosely.

"It will be ready when my son shuts his mouth," Anna sang back, smiling.

"When will your son shut his mouth, mother mine?" His fingers played with a few trills.

"Not until the world ends, and the sky goes dark."

"When will the world end, mother mine?"

"In about twenty minutes."

* * *

Lloyd used to have plenty of dreams about the ranch, especially when they first arrived in Triet. He would wake up in his cot, wander through the monotonous events of the day, go back to bed, wake up again, go through another day, then wake up for real and not know where he was. But his mother was always beside him, holding him when he cried, assuring him that _this_ was the real world, and that the ranch had been a dream. She had to tell him over and over that they weren't going back there, ever. He wanted to believe her, but it took him months to finally let go of the fear that he would wake up back in his old cot, surrounded by the ghosts of dead children and the withered, wasting bodies of living ones.

He dreamt of Forcystus, and Kvar, of his mother dressed as a medical assistant, he dreamt of the dark corners of the ranch's inner walls, he dreamt of rats and electrical sockets and wiring and wrenches. He dreamt of the dead boy and his symbols. He dreamt of a vat of bleach, soaked with red, and the overwhelming, ferrous smell of blood and ammonia. It took years for the dreams to go away, but they did. With his mother's help, they did.

She had dreams, too. Sometimes she would wake up sweaty, tangled in her blankets, sometimes she would groan and mutter so furiously Lloyd would have to shake her until she sat up and realized she was in a tent in Triet, far away from her nightmares. On those nights, if Lloyd was lucky, she'd let him stay up with her as she brewed a pot of medicinal tea. She would let him have some, and although it tasted bitter and made him sleepy, he liked sharing a cup with her.

One day, a few months after they had settled into their new life, Lloyd mustered the courage to ask her about her nightmares.

"They're about the day I lost my arm," she told him, and for a while he pressed no further. When she kept waking up from the same dream, he decided to ask her a few more questions. He couldn't help but wonder at the way she rubbed her elbow stump, as if trying to massage out a pulled muscle. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"How can your arm hurt if it's not there?"

"I don't know, Lloyd. It just… it's strange. It's like my body knows the arm is supposed to be there. It's asking me where my arm is."

"Where _is_ your arm?"

She chuckled a little. "I don't know. I seem to have misplaced it."

It was about a year into the nightmares before he started asking the right questions. "Who cut off your arm, _el__á_?"

She sat silently for a moment, staring at the boiling pot of tea, as if something important were contained inside. She bit her lip before answering, "Your father."

That had been the first time she had mentioned that Lloyd even had a father. The thought had just never occurred to him. His early notions of family were indistinct and abstract—he had no family, no one did, not at the ranch. But at the same time he shared a necessary camaraderie with his fellow imprisoned children that one might define as vaguely familial. The older ones sometimes picked on him, sometimes watched out for him, as he did for his juniors. He had seen Ezra behave that way with his siblings, so he assumed that's the way children in families acted.

But he had never even come across the notion that he may have had a parent until Anna had sat him down in that medical office so long ago and introduced to him the tangible concept of motherhood. He knew that everyone had a mother and father—children who came to the ranch from the outside world often mentioned theirs—but he never knew anyone had a relationship with them. It was extraordinary.

After Anna had first mentioned his father, he began to wonder why the man was suspiciously absent. It was a question Anna could not answer, at least all at once. And at first Lloyd did not dare pressure her. When she let slip bits and pieces of information about his father, he collected them carefully, as one picks up shards of glass from the floor, and stored them in the back of his mind.

He arranged the facts about his father the way he arranged his toolbox: in neatly partitioned areas according to use. He had a memory bank for what his father looked like, one for what his father acted like, one for specific memories his mother had of him, one for her opinions of him.

Here is what he'd collected throughout the years: his father may or may not be dead. His father had eyes like his—a dark, deep brown. His father's hair had been redder than his. His father had been tall, and had carried a sword (one which was later used to separate his mother from her arm, he learned). He had been quiet, had not smiled often, except when Lloyd was around. He had been knowledgable. He had been a kind and loving father. And then he had tried to murder his family.

"Why did he try to kill us?" Lloyd asked her one night, when he was feeling particularly brave. He was thirteen and growing like a weed. He became stronger and more confident by the day.

"I don't know," his mother answered. He thought she looked sad, or relieved. He hadn't been sure. "He had always been so calm. He just… snapped, I suppose. He broke under the pressure."

"What pressure?"

Anna sighed. "That's a long story, Lloyd. I will tell it to you some other time."

That other time never seemed to come. The only information he got with which to build a portrait of his father came in off-hand comments, few and far between, and always with a confusing mix of admiration and disdain—"Your father said this," "He would've liked that," "Who knows what the bastard thought."

One night when he was fifteen, he awoke to the sound of her crying. He opened his eyes and saw her staring at him; evidently she had been watching him sleep. Her eyes were red, her mouth contorted in sorrow. He sat up and looked at her, and she didn't try to hide her tears from him.

"What are you crying for?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You've… just… you look more like him every day."

It shook Lloyd to the bone. He looked down at his folded hands, not sure what to think. He considered what it meant that he could make her cry simply by existing, simply by looking the way he did. He didn't know if she was crying because she hated him, because he reminded her of the man who ruined her life, or because of something else entirely.

"_El__á__, _do you still love him?" he asked carefully.

"How can I, after all he's done to us?" She had been slow to answer. It had not been a no.

He began to hate his father then. He hated him for mutilating her, of course, but he hated him more for forcing Lloyd to remind Anna of him. He was determined to erase his father from his own memory and hers, but he didn't know how. He seemed to be helplessly crushed under the presence of a man who was no longer even there. The shadows his father cast became real to him, and he realized that he was not just an abstract concept, like ownership or money or the gods, but a real human being. A real human being who had hurt his mother, who had tried to kill them both, who had condemned them to live in the ranch for all those years.

Silently, as he comforted his mother in the dim night, he swore that if he ever came across his father again, he would remove the power he still wielded over his family. The next time they met, if ever, Lloyd would kill him.


	11. Descent

His feet had not touched solid ground for nearly fifteen years. In all that time, he had not seen so much as a blade of grass or a patch of blue sky. He hadn't heard the sound of wind through leaves, hadn't taken a breath of fresh air or shaded his eyes against the harsh sun. He hadn't even given so much as a glance toward the world he'd left behind. He told himself that he would not miss it.

Normally, for a man as old has him, fifteen years would pass as easily as a deep breath. But since that day in the Iselian hills, the years had slowed. Time protracted torturously, and each passing minute pushed itself through him like a pin through a cushion. The days were nothing more than an implacable ache, the years kneaded him like dough. But he did not know what else to do but endure.

So he did. He paced through the halls of Derris-Kharlan with no destination, stopping to stare into the faces of each and every lifeless automaton that lined the streets of Welgaia. He followed them on their assigned paths, ever circling, wordless and aimless. In a way, they shared his goals and desires—namely, none at all. He found a little comfort in their acceptance of their meaninglessness, and often found himself in their company, just sitting at the edge of the city, surrounded by those torpid angels, staring into the stars.

He kept himself busy with his thoughts. Four thousand years of thoughts can fill a head to the point of saturation, so he had plenty of stores of self-blame, nostalgia, hatred, fear, and sorrow to sift through. He plucked emotions from his memories as one might take a book off a shelf and read it, before returning it to gather dust.

Mithos had worried about him. Earnest, caring, evil little Mithos had been there for him. Nursing him back to health. Walking with him. Trying to get him to speak, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tight, telling him it would be okay. That he and Yuan and Martel, his real family, were still there.

Mithos must've been under the impression that his tender care had worked. Otherwise, there would be no reason to send him back down to the world below, the world that had enticed him and turned him traitor to the cause. A world with which he'd had no contact for fifteen years.

"The Tower will appear soon," Mithos had told him. "It's best if you head down there now, just to get used to it. The world has changed a little bit."

Kratos doubted that greatly. Things never changed.

Still, he had descended upon the world, as commanded, silent as a ghost. But he did not land where he was told to, where the Chosen was set to depart on her journey. He made sure the first ground he touched was that grassy knoll at the top of the Iselian cliffs where they had lost their lives. He corrected himself: where he had taken their lives.

He half expected to find the ground still stained with blood. But when he glanced at the cliffs, the wind flowing in the long grass, he discovered no sign of violence, no sign of disturbance. Just the pastoral hills, alive with the breath of mountain breezes, and the trickling of a stream clear as glass. It was almost as if the land had forgotten.

Kratos opened his hand, examining the tiny stone that glinted in his palm. It glowed a bright blue, a color that had never suited her. She'd had brown eyes, dark hair—she'd much preferred red. It was a color that matched her fiery nature, he thought. But she insisted she only wore the color because it complimented the tone of her skin, and made her presence more dynamic. Many of her costumes, she said, had been trimmed with red.

She had been wearing red in her last moments. He remembered because the blood seemed to disappear into her clothing, sinking through her long skirt and into the dirt below. The ground drank it up, hers and her son's, before they died.

The ground ate everything. He had wanted to return the shining exsphere to the all-consuming earth, to finally give his family the burial he had never been able to. But he didn't. He kept it close. She had worked too hard on it, sacrificed too much for it, for him to just throw it away. Besides, if he buried it, one of the Cardinals would find it anyway.

He just stared at the ground where they had died. "It's been so many years. You'd think that after four millennia of disasters I'd learn to let things go." He couldn't help but chuckle cynically. The gentle wind carried his hoarse voice down the cliffs and to the path below.

He did not know why the Chosen had opted to move away from Iselia, with its the mild, temperate breezes. He had always been fond of the area, at least until… He sighed and started down the path, toward the village. He had been explicitly instructed to skip over it, but he did not know how much harm it would do just to walk through it.

Then he would go find the Chosen, and do what he had to do. He had his duty to Mithos, to the world. He would complete his tasks, and he would try to forget his mistakes. Cruxis had forgiven him. Maybe he could forgive himself.

He knew he had made an impossible choice. When the hideousness of Anna's exsphere had manifested into her skin, drove her mad, made her strong, she had tried to kill their son. He had never expected Lloyd to be her first target. He knew that somewhere in her, Anna still lingered, and Anna would never…

But she _had_. That was the impossible fact: she had tried to kill their son. So he had raised his sword to her. He was surrounded by Desians, and like the heartless imbecile he was, he prioritized fighting his own wife. But he never did muster the strength to kill her.

He was weak. He had a choice between his wife, and his son, and he could not make that choice. He had tried to compromise and consequently killed them both.

He knew that creature that had hurt Lloyd was not Anna. It had been the exsphere, using her body, so in the split second he had to react, he turned his sword away from her throat and removed the exsphere from her body. He still remembered the sound her arm made as his sword swept through her muscle and bone, separating her forearm from her elbow. The gnarled, deformed arm had fallen to the ground, exsphere still attached, and Anna had followed shortly, bleeding out. He remembered the way she and her son looked, side-by-side, lying in the grass. He had not known whether or not Lloyd was already dead.

It had all transpired so quickly. When he caught his breath and killed the last of his pursuers, he rushed to her side and pulled her onto his knee. She was bleeding, heavily, but he knew that at least meant she was still alive. So he turned his attention to his son, and the exsphere, still pulsating, glowing in the grass beside him.

She had not told him to take it—she didn't need to. He picked it up and squeezed it tightly, feeling it pulse with what he could only assume was Anna's feeble heartbeat. It was still feeding off her, still desperately trying to suck out what sustenance it could before its host's life was completely drained. He held it close and reached out toward his son's unmoving body, to check for signs of life.

From there, it had been blurry. He remembered hearing a gunshot and his arm… yes… it was his arm that was hit. He remembered seeing his own blood mix with theirs before standing up to fight off his attackers. He had been blind with fury, slowed down by pain, but he had taken down a few dozen of them before they brought him down.

He had woken up in Derris-Kharlan, under the watchful eye of Mithos. He had been bound, weakened, but out of necessity, they had spared his life. He knew Mithos needed him alive, but he hadn't been so sure he'd wanted him that way. It wasn't until weeks later, when Mithos finally left his side, that he knew that some tiny, lingering part of that resentful little child still cared for him.

Mithos' underlings had searched for days, weeks, for the stone, but had come up with nothing. They had searched Kratos when they captured him, they searched the bodies of his wife and child, and the little rock eluded them.

They'd interrogated him, demanded to know where he'd hidden it. He feigned ignorance, told them that it had fallen down the cliffs and he had no idea where it was. They bought this tale for a long time; since his grief was real enough, it must've seemed likely his story was as well.

No one had seen him swallow it. It struck him as awfully neglectful for Cruxis to not consider that possibility. Perhaps they had not given him credit to pull something clever while in a state of emotional shock. To be honest, Kratos had surprised even himself that even in his blacked-out state of rage he was level-headed enough to have hidden the little gem.

Since he did not possess human metabolic functions, he didn't need to eat. His stomach was a useless, vestigial sac of tissue good for nothing more than surreptitious storage. Mithos should've known that. It should've been the first place they looked. But it wasn't, miraculously.

While wandering the halls of Derris-Kharlan, he thought of all the things Anna would've said if she'd known how he had hidden her little treasure.

"You won't eat my cooking but you'll eat a rock."

"We should start a smuggling business. You can swallow all the product and cough it up on the other side of the border."

He suspected that she, too, would have been surprised at his unexpected foresight.

"It's like waking up severely hungover and realizing that drunk you has cleverly left sober you a glass of water at your bedside." She would then have segued into her familiar story about how the last time she got so hammered she blacked out, she had singlehandedly fortified her entire theater against a pirate raid that wrecked a quarter of the town. She hadn't known she had done that until morning, when theirs was the only building that remained un-looted. It had been opening night.

He still missed her. Returning to the world below had made it so much worse. But he comforted himself with the thought that she would've wanted to see the worlds reunited—she would want him to do whatever was necessary to end suffering. She had been bold like that. Totally unreasonable.

It was with a heart heavy with longing that Kratos walked down the path to Iselia. He tried to recall the faces of his wife and son, but he could only see them lying in the grass, mouths open, blood-soaked. Mithos had said Anna bled out. Lloyd had died of a head injury. Cruxis didn't let him bury them.

Thoughts of his family followed him down into the town. They occupied his mind so thoroughly that he was already through what had once been Iselia's main gate before he realized the town no longer existed.

No one had informed him of this event. He looked around, at the remains of the buildings overgrown with moss and weeds, at the collapsed wooden pillars that had been beaten down by fire and bullets, at the small craters left by explosives.

He narrowed his eyes and decided to investigate. He walked around the village as the sun set wearily in the distance, and examined each and every home. He did not know if the Chosen left before, after, or during this raid, but it was still a hazardous move to pull. The temple of the oracle had been here. Cruxis would not endanger World Regeneration if there had not been a very, very good reason. A reason that no one had been willing to divulge to Kratos. As far as he knew, there was only one project that was prioritized over the Regeneration…

A strange feeling bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. He rounded the corner slowly, cautiously, and saw a man kneeling alone in the middle of the town square. Kratos' hand instinctively wandered to his sword hilt, but the man seemed to pose no threat. He was engrossed in whatever was going on inside of the cracked and moss-covered plank of wood that sat at his feet.

When the man heard Kratos approach, he looked up and smiled. "Strange to meet another person in this wasteland," he said.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Kratos tried to sound interested, if only to strike up a conversation. He had not had a normal conversation in years.

"Oh, me?" As if there was anyone else. "I study beetles, well, just right now—I used to study birds, but I've found that there are a few really interesting species of bugs that live here in Iselia now that all the people are gone. They eat these certain types mosses, you see, that people usually try to kill off. It's slightly toxic, you know. Children are known to get sick from it." He bent back down to examine a red beetle crawl over the surface of the wood.

"What happened here?" Kratos asked.

The man looked up at him like he was nuts. "You don't know?"

Kratos shook his head.

"The Desians happened."

"I thought they had a non-aggression treaty."

The man shrugged. "Apparently someone or other violated it. No one knows. Some people say the Iselians did it, the rest say the Desians. I met a lady in Luin from here, she said that Kvar himself came down and told them he was looking for some escapees. Then he burnt the place to the ground."

_Kvar_. Kratos stiffened. "Did they they ever find the ones who escaped?"

The man shook his head. "I don't know. Obviously they hadn't found them by the time they got to Iselia."

"Where did they all go? The surviving villagers, I mean."

"All over. Some went off to their families' old farms, quite a few went to Luin. Some made it all the way to Palmacosta. When I was passing through the area I helped a lady and her son get to Triet. She was a character. She wasn't from Iselia but she'd been passing through when the raid went down."

"She didn't happen to be dressed in a prison uniform," Kratos said, more hopefully than he thought reasonable.

"Gods, no. I don't get myself in trouble when I shouldn't. She was from… Hima, if I recall. It's hard to remember, since I try to give a lift to everyone I can. I just remember her because she'd lost her arm in a mining accident."

A bout of nausea passed over Kratos with such force that he put a hand over his stomach. "Which arm?"

"What?"

"Which arm was she missing?"

"Hell, I don't remember. It was so long ago. And as far as I can tell, it's none of your business."

Kratos took a deep breath. "You're right. It's not." He turned to go.

"Hey, wait. Where are you going?" The man seemed more curious than offended.

Kratos didn't answer. He just kept walking, straight out of the village, down the forest path, through the surrounding fields, all the way to where the dry grass of the Iselian prairies kissed the desert sands.


	12. Market Day

On the morning of market day, Lloyd's mother made eggs for breakfast. It was a rare occurrence, since few people had the means to raise chickens in that dry town. The few that did invariably lived closest to the oasis, and if anyone else wanted to eat eggs or the birds that made them, they'd have to hand over a small fortune.

Anna's employer had given her half a dozen. She was one of of the town's wealthier inhabitants, and would often present Anna gifts of extra food and sometimes even a bottle of alcohol, if she had been selling well lately.

"We used to have eggs all the time," Anna said as she watched the gelatinous albumen turn white in the pan. "Other places in the world have a lot more water, a lot more grain. Eggs are cheap there."

"Why don't we go there, then?" Lloyd asked. He could get used to eating eggs every day.

"You know why, you little smartass." She didn't need to tell him, since he knew that almost everywhere else in the world was too close to a human ranch. Lloyd desperately wanted to go explore other places—he had vivid memories of passing through lands so full of trees he could barely see the sky—but he knew that until it was safe for them to wander, they would have to stay in Triet. And it wouldn't be safe until the Chosen regenerated the world. But with the her dead, the Desians would be keeping Sylvarant company for a long time yet.

It wasn't as if Lloyd disliked Triet. He would rather stay here than find himself back in the ranch. But as long as Desians were around, it would never be safe for him to leave the desert. His propensity for wanderlust did not make it a satisfactory situation.

Anna still seemed to be lingering on the topic of eggs, however. "You know, once when you were really little, before the ranch, before that whole mess, I used to play these little tricks on you. One time, I poked a hole in the bottom of an egg and blew out all the yolk. I showed you the egg, said I was going to do a magic trick. I waved my hands, recited all these fake incantations, then cracked the egg on my head. You were amazed I didn't get yolk all over me. So then I gave you a real egg and made you try it. Gods, it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen, you just sitting there with this utterly betrayed look on your face, covered in egg."

Lloyd snorted. "That was nasty of you."

"Yes, well, at that point I feared you'd inherited your father's sense of humor—namely, none. You cried for hours and wouldn't stop until he sat you on his lap and calmed you down. You were mad at me for a few days, but like any tiny kid, you were a little dumb, and forgot the whole affair after a little while. But gods above, you were easy to trick. I still smile when I think of it."

Lloyd frowned. "What I want to know is why you thought it was a good idea to waste a perfectly good egg."

Anna threw her one remaining hand in the air. "I have no excuse for that."

After a short, comfortable pause, Lloyd said, "Barra wants to come over for dinner again."

"That man… he eats like a horse and swears like a bandit." Anna removed the eggs from the stove.

"Just like you. So why don't you two get together more often?" Lloyd figured if he could coax Barra into his life, he could usher his real father out. Barra had been a father to him in practice anyway, so it only seemed proper to officialize the relationship. Besides, the man's company seemed to make his mother happy.

"You keep your eager little nose out of it," Anna said, before falling silent for a while. "All right. He can come over. If you insist." Anna accepted invitations to socialize the same way a warlord might accept defeat. Lloyd didn't understand her, but he figured very few people ever had. He wondered if his father did, once, and then forced the thought from his mind.

"All right, _el__á_," Lloyd said, standing and quickly rinsing off his plate with a splash of dirty water from the bucket. "I'm going to go see how much I can get from the trinkets I got in the ruins. I'll see you later."

"I'll probably catch you in the bazaar," she answered. "You want to go down to the oasis today? It's getting hot."

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Just be sure to keep your foot in the water, okay?"

"Sure, see you then."

Lloyd popped out of the tent and down the narrow path, made his way past the oasis and to the town square, where Ezra had already laid down his mat and was trying to foist his little writing utensils on anyone who was gullible enough to buy them.

"They grant wishes!" he yelled into the crowd. "Write anything down and it'll come true!"

Lloyd's derisive laugh shut him up momentarily. He looked up as Lloyd set his own mat and started to set up his wares, displaying them to the browsing public. He eyed the crowd, counting the locals versus the foreigners, the rich visitors versus the poor ones, who would buy what he sold and for how much. He spied a couple of men wearing exspheres, strolling past with swords at their sides. Whenever he saw someone in the market sporting one of the stones, he couldn't help wondering if any of them knew where they had come from. It's not like he could sit these men down and explain to them the nature of their trinkets—as far as anyone knew, he was just as ignorant as the rest of them. He knew his guise was for his own safety, but he could not stop himself from giving a dirty looks to anyone who passed by wearing an exsphere.

Ezra kept spewing dubious nonsense about the various supernatural powers contained in his wares, getting up and following unsuspecting shoppers around, while Lloyd preferred to sit back and let them browse. He tuned his oud and played around with the strings, spelling out a melody. A few Trieti men and women stopped by to look at the things he collected, but the asking price for useless decorations was too high for many of the native townsfolk. They weren't Lloyd's target demographic anyway.

"Hey, Ezra," he leaned over. "Check out those people. Why don't you entice them over here?"

Ezra looked toward the town entrance, to the two-legged pay dirt hanging around in the shade by the gate. There were about seven of them, all identically and impractically dressed in the uniforms of the Church of Martel. Whether or not they were clergy or tourists with a guide was uncertain—what was certain was that they had a few coins to spare on trinkets.

Ezra skipped over to the group and opened with his usual friendly monologue, guiding them over to his stall with the promise that they'd all find something they needed. Lloyd strung out a few ditties on his oud, watching their eyes pass jealously over the little statuettes standing proudly on his rug. One of them, a mousy-haired, bespectacled man, was especially enthralled with his tiny model of Efreet, eyes cast in rubies.

"May I touch it?" he asked, but didn't wait for Lloyd's answer. He stared at the thing for a whole two minutes before shooting Lloyd a serious frown. "Do you even know what this is?" he said.

Lloyd didn't like his condescending tone. "It's my merch, so handle with care," he replied. "You break, you buy."

"You have no idea! This is a genuine pre-Dynastic idol! Where did you get this?"

Lloyd gave him his most charming smile and strummed a little tune. "The Triet ruins."

"What? This… you _stole_ this from… Look, kid, do you have any idea what this is worth? It should be in a museum."

Lloyd's asking price had been eight thousand gil, a little more than two rubies of that size would regularly be worth, and way more than any native Trieti would be willing to pay. He decided to guess. "Ten thousand."

"Oh gods, boy, you know nothing."

_And neither do you._ "Twenty thousand. You want it or not?"

The man grit his teeth. "Look. This is an artifact. You can't just sell it like some common souvenir."

Lloyd liked it when he understood haggling better than someone else. Not too long ago he had been the ignorant one when it came to commerce. "Fifty thousand. Take it or leave it."

"Damn it." The man set the ugly little statue down and returned to his companions, where he began a heated conversation with them.

"What are they doing?" Ezra leaned over and asked Lloyd.

"I dunno," he answered.

"They kept questioning the 'authenticity' of my stuff. I knew I got a weird vibe from them. Some sorta archeology outing, I guess." Ezra sighed. "I shoulda known. People only come to Triet for two things: archeology or opiates. And these guys don't look like the kind who would hang out in a smoke den. Know-it-all bastards. Just _buy_ something."

Lloyd didn't tell him about the man and his little ruby statue. The last thing Ezra needed to know was that Lloyd would soon be carrying an enormous amount of money. He didn't need a beggar nipping at his heels and insisting that Lloyd buy him a drink with his fortune.

So when the man returned, red-faced from the heat and visibly upset, Lloyd took him aside, away from Ezra, to speak.

"So. What'll it be?"

"We mustered all our spending money and came up with forty. That's all we can give you."

Better than eight. "Forty-five."

"Forty. I'm telling you, _it__'__s all we have_."

Lloyd sighed. "Forty-two."

"Forty."

Lloyd knew he would get nowhere. "Fine. Forty. But you might not want anyone around these parts to see that kinda money change hands, you get it?"

The scholar nodded. "Bring the statue around to the inn later. We'll be occupying three of the upper rooms. We'll have the money for you."

Lloyd returned to his mat, trying to hide his smile. He sat back down and resumed his absentminded playing. A few other travelers wandered by and bought some of his other things on display, but his profit was nothing to write home about. Probably enough to fill the hovercraft's fuel tank back up for another outing. Besides the deal with the Martel guys, he hadn't made much. He'd try again next market day.

Near the end of the afternoon, after the bazaar died down, when the greatest heat had passed and there were few people still near the oasis, Lloyd met his mother under a palm tree on the far side. Making sure no one could see, he removed his shoes and slipped his feet into the water. They had both donned their swimming wraps under their clothes in preparation for the bathe.

As his mother removed her robe and freed her mutilated arm from its silk constraints, he sat at the edge of the water, watching his toes sink into the sand underneath. "_El__á_," he started.

"What?" she asked, letting down her long brown hair and stepping into the oasis. The very beginnings of grey hairs streaked her temples.

"What is the thing you want most in the world?"

She shot him an incredulous look before wading into her waist. "I suppose I want my son to be happy." She turned on her back and looked at him.

"I mean, what's the _thing_ you want most in the world. A house? A fancy rug? A pair of golden sandals?"

Anna let her hair soak in the water for a bit. "The physical thing I want most in the world… I suppose I'd like to have my arm back."

Lloyd sighed. The woman was impossible. She drew her head out of the water and struggled to wring out her hair with her one hand. "Come on and get clean. You have sand in the wrinkles of your eyes."

Lloyd slipped into the water and bent down to throw some water in his face. "You should see my ass crack," he dared to joke, and his mother smacked him.

"Save that kind of vulgarity for Barra." He smiled up at her, and she shook her head. "That's my child; a filthy, boorish mongrel."

"Your mouth isn't much better." He lowered his head into the water and let the sand soak out from it. He floated on his back, watching the clouds pass over the yellowed sky, and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair a few times. "Why did you want to come to the oasis today all of a sudden?" He pulled his head from the water and grinned crookedly at his mother. "You wanna look your best for Barra?"

She splashed at him irritably but didn't answer. So, perhaps his hopes and dreams for an official father weren't so far-fetched after all. He imagined the ceremony. Anna and Barra, two people old enough to have the occasional grey hair, a blushing newlywed couple. Lloyd couldn't help but smile at the image.

They would no doubt have a traditional Trieti wedding, with costumes and everything. And the whole town would be invited. They would use the forty thousand gil from the statue to rent out the entire town square for a day. Lloyd would play the oud at the ceremony and impress every guest with his impeccable finger-work. Yes, he could see it very clearly… but gods above, he had to practice. He had to learn some traditional songs to play, and he had to get some of the strings changed before the wedding…

"Lloyd, are you even listening?"

He raised his head to see his mother wading toward the edge of the pool. "There's a group of people coming. We probably should go."

He swam after her and emerged from the water, pulling on his pants and shoes before anyone could catch the slightest glimpse of his tattoo.

While his mother headed toward home, Lloyd decided to go get Barra and see if he could intimidate those nerds at the inn into giving him more than forty thousand for the little statuette.

* * *

When Barra came over for the evening, he carried Lloyd in one arm and fifty-five thousand gil in the other. The archeological crew forfeited pretty much everything they had to save the useless little bauble—Barra's looming form, arms crossed over his massive chest, had changed their minds as to the value of the statuette. Many of them seemed terrified of any social conflict a good haggling match would engender, so when Barra and Lloyd came out of the inn and headed toward home, they laughed at the surprising flimsiness of the travelers.

That whole evening—tea, dinner, tea again, and the inevitable lingering under the entrance flap—consisted of only the money, the gullibility of tourists, the quality of Anna's cooking. When Barra left for the night, Lloyd was almost tired of thinking about his small fortune. Instead he left the money on the table and distracted himself with some music.

"So that's why you asked me what I wanted most," Anna said, sitting down beside him. "I don't suppose you can use that money to build me a new arm, can you?"

Lloyd laughed. "I know I have a rep as the village mechanic, but I don't think I can do that. Don't you want a house? One with actual rooms, and… you know, a door?"

"If having a house would make you happy, then I want a house."

Lloyd looked closely at her. They had enough to at least put a down payment on a smaller one, out of the way… but then again, if he correctly interpreted the looks his mother and his substitute father and been giving each other all night…

"What about Barra's house?" he asked. "He has tiles—actual _tiles_—on his floor. And four rooms."

"Oh, Lloyd, will you shut up about Barra? We don't need you sitting there keeping track of our relationship like some sort of creepy scorekeeper."

Lloyd shrugged. "If we lived in a house with walls and a real door, I wouldn't have to be in the same room as you two all the time. Then I wouldn't be such a creep." He played a quick melody and thought for a moment. "But Barra offers. He says we could live in the spare room and pay him a little bit each fortnight for it." Anna was silent, staring at her folded hands. "Just think about it, will you?"

His reasons for wanting a solid four walls around him weren't entirely selfish. It wasn't exactly safe, living in a structure that a particularly strong wind could blow over in a moment. Sometimes a gust would throw up a flap, sending sand flying into their food and bedding. They would have to repeatedly patch up the roof only to find that some insect had eaten its way through the cloth again. It was a perpetual battle to keep stray animals from wandering in an eating their food. The only reason they weren't robbed blind was that no thief in his right mind would look for valuables in a tent as shabby as theirs. No, it would be a good thing for both of them to have a door or two.

"I'll think about it," Anna said. Unlike most parents, Lloyd had learned, this actually meant she would consider it. Ezra said that whenever his mother said she'd think about it, she meant no, and when his father said the same thing, it invariably meant a yes. So for Lloyd, the noncommittal answer left him with no hint as to whether she was leaning toward a positive or negative conclusion.

He would keep working on her. Keep it up until he could play oud at their wedding. Until the day when he could proudly claim, as he packed his things and wandered into the desert, that he was going treasure-hunting with his father.

* * *

Barra had once had a daughter. It had been a long time ago, but Lloyd had heard that she died of some sort of summer fever. The same illness taken his wife a few years later, after she had wasted away in grief. Barra refused to speak of his family the same way that Lloyd and Anna implicitly refused to speak of the ranch—it wasn't that between the two of them the subject was necessarily taboo, just that both of them unconsciously avoided bringing it up so well that the subject rarely, if ever, arose. But Lloyd knew that if Barra were to become a more permanent fixture in his life than they would probably have to tell him the truth about their history. Maybe that's why his mother refused his every advance—they seemed to get along fabulously otherwise. Maybe she was afraid of having to dredge up painful memories that were better left forgotten.

With the exception of rare occasions when insomnia kept him awake with his mother, seeking comfort in conversation, Lloyd never talked about what he went through at the ranch. He never spoke of Kvar or Forcystus, never talked of his job wandering the dark inner walls, he never talked about their daring escape, or the other children, who still remained there. Sometimes, when the stars were right, he would wake up with an ache in his bones, a tormenting itch in the back of his head that accused him of abandoning them. He thought of their faces and numbers—at least, the ones he could remember—and imagined them gown up like him. Some of them would be in their early twenties. Some of them would be around graduation age by now. Some, undoubtedly, would be dead, but whether they had died in accidents or been executed or had their life drained away by some exsphere, that was still a mystery. He did not care to know.

Sometimes, in a part of his mind so deep he barely noticed it, he thought of going back. He thought of reentering that metal facility, greeting his peers, nodding to the one or two guards that had been relatively kind to him over the years. He didn't know if it was a lingering desire to liberate his forgotten peers from the injustice of the ranch, of if it was nostalgia, or something a little more insidious.

He didn't know why, but he felt a sudden urge to listen in on Desian activities, just for a little while. In the early morning, even before his mother woke up, he rolled off his mat and pulled on his shoes. He secured his knives at his thigh, nicked some fruit from the table, wrapped his shemagh closely around his head, grabbed his toolkit and headed out into the early morning.

One thing Lloyd liked most about the desert were the sunrises. He liked the way the sun crept over the distant cliffs and turned the sky to a blue so deep he felt he could fall right up into it. When he first came to Triet, he had been afraid to look too closely at the deep sky for fear of losing himself in it and never finding his mother again. Now, sometimes he wished that he could fall upward, that he could soar into the blue, just so he could look down and see the world falling away below him.

By the time he arrived at the hovercraft, the sun had lit the sky back up to its usual white-blue, and the wind picked up. So when he pulled up a corner of the tarp hiding the machine from both the elements and any wandering eyes, he simply crawled under it. He activated the control board without igniting the fuel, and decided to play around with the mysterious sound machine. To the pleasant backdrop of the pitter-patter of sand particles blown against the tarp, he turned the volume down and fiddled with the dials. At first he picked up only noise, probably due to the mild sandstorm outside and the tarp covering the device. He kept at it, though, until he heard a voice, loud and clear, announcing the arrival of the sandy winds.

"You're a little late," Lloyd told the machine.

"A little late," came the unsatisfied voice of another man, words muffled by what Lloyd assumed was the sand-swept gale. He could not help but smile.

For the first time in his life, he felt a small degree of power over these villains. Eavesdropping on the most intimate discussions of Desian logistical problems and providing mean commentary filled him with a sense of smug satisfaction. Safe under his tarp, he listened to a group of them struggle to navigate back to their base through the sandstorm. He listened to one unit encounter a dangerous animal and flee desperately, the main operator calling in repeatedly to check up on them. He listened to one particularly pathetic Desian feebly flirt with a female hovercraft pilot halfway across the desert. He laughed out loud a few times during that conversation.

He imagined this was what plays were like. His mother had told him about theater performances, in which she used to fill the roles of an array of characters—a curmudgeonly biddy, a lovestruck maiden, a downtrodden servant, a sinister Asgardian witch. She sang him the songs from these performances and told him their stories, but she said they had been rehearsed a thousand times. These conversations did not seem rehearsed, but Lloyd was sure he enjoyed them as much he would any play.

Via the little sound machine, the Desians seemed to be communicating to each other in real time from opposite ends of the desert. Since the hovercraft in which Lloyd sat had once been one of theirs, he figured he might be able to put in a quick word in their conversation. He sat for at least an hour merely considering it. There were several buttons he suspected let him take part in the conversation. So when he finally mustered up the courage to try it, he held one down and said into the little device, "Sinkhole three degrees north of Triet." It seemed a benign enough phrase, now he just had to wait for a "roger" back.

"Who's that?" came the voice of the operator. "State your number."

Lloyd bit his lip and remained silent.

"State your number." A moment of silence. "If your radio is malfunctioning, send your number via the satellite board."

Lloyd didn't know what the satellite board was or what it did, so he just sat back and waited, hoping they'd forget about him.

Another Desian came into the conversation. "You think an outsider got a hold of a radio?"

"Some asshole from Triet, probably," said the poor pilot who had been at the receiving end of some hideously cheesy pick-up lines. "Could be that mechanic kid."

Lloyd broke out in a cold sweat.

"This is your last chance: state your number."

Then Lloyd did something that would not only restore his moral and technological advantage over them, but would've both terrified his mother and amused her to no end. He pressed down the big red button and said, "No."

A stunned silence hung on the other side of the radio for a few seconds, before the pilot burst out laughing. "I knew it! Hey, kid. You've been up to some dangerous stuff."

Her familiarity struck him as odd, but she probably had passed through Triet a dozen times and he'd serviced her hovercraft. He couldn't tell Desians apart because of their ubiquitous helmets, but evidently some of them recognized him.

"It can't be anyone from Triet. They'd need one of _our_ radios to pick up this frequency."

"Maybe he stole one."

"Maybe he's just one of us being a dick. It's probably Private Goddamn Smithson. I swear to all the gods he's always jeopardizing our communications."

Lloyd just sat back and laughed.

"Cut him off," came the operator's voice.

"We can't."

"Well, what can you do?"

"Uh.. well, we can pinpoint his location if he's attached to a functioning positioning system, but I doubt he is."

_Oh shit,_ Lloyd thought, his laughter dying down. Where the hell was the positioning system and how could he turn it off? He desperately searched the control board for any indicator. Some of the buttons were labeled, but Lloyd couldn't read. He might have to smash the thing and then fix it later.

"Get on that," the operator commanded. "In the meantime, proceed as usual. A little boy with a radio will not pose a threat to our operations."

Lloyd was a little disappointed at his apparent harmlessness, but he continued to listen in silence as he struggled to locate the positioning system in his hovercraft. There was no word back from the man who was tasked with tracking him down. There may not be, now that they knew he was listening. He should probably get out of there, fast—either abandon his machine or move it to another location. There weren't many other good hiding spots for a vehicle that big, but he sure as hell wasn't just gonna leave it out in the open, when they were going to track down and destroy his radio.

Eventually, when he could not locate the positioning system and decided wrecking the whole interface would be a horrible waste, he threw off the tarp, stuffed it in the back, and tried to start the machine.

"Dammit, not now," he whispered when the engine only sputtered feebly. He opened the box beneath the steering wheel to see if he could find what was wrong while still within earshot of the radio. The storm had cleared and he had a good view of the sands around him, so he could make a run for it if necessary. He twisted wires and banged on whatever could take a beating, hoping the thing would start up, all the while absentmindedly listening for any indication that they had tracked his location and were coming to steal his hard-earned machinery. He kept up his quick work until the radio crackled back to life and an announcement stopped him in his tracks.

It was the pilot, calling into the operator with an emergency. "Desians, fully armed, desert vehicle model 314-BE, heading my way. Engage?"

"No," came the answer. "Stay hidden."

Lloyd thought that perhaps he had misheard, although the woman had spoken clearly and deliberately. There was no static to obscure her words. Lloyd shook his head and returned to his fiddling. He pulled this and that, twisted the usual screws and smacked the usual surfaces, but the damn thing wouldn't turn on.

"Crisis averted," came the pilot's voice. "No shots fired, moved on."

"Did they see you?"

"Possibly. Though they showed no interest."

Lloyd sat in the bed of the craft, head against the bottom of the control board, and sighed. He stood up to check his surroundings, and could barely make out a tuft of sand rising on the horizon. He squinted, trying to make out its trajectory.

To his dismay, he saw that whatever vehicle was spewing sand headed straight for him. Either the hovercraft's rightful owners had pinned him down and were coming to disable his machine, or there was a vehicle full of fully armed Desians heading his way. He decided to take no chances. His mother wouldn't stand for him getting himself kidnapped.

So he quickly threw the sand-colored tarp over his hovercraft and ran from it, crawling through the shade of the massive rocks that hid the machine, and sliding down the sand to the trough of two dunes. He knew if he didn't want to be seen from afar he shouldn't travel at the crest, and he could follow the movement of the sun all the way back to Triet. He started to jog, covering his face as he moved along the bases of the dunes, wishing that he hadn't given into the urge to find out of his radio still worked.

He swore at himself for the first few miles, but when he realized he was not being followed, he slowed down and gave himself some time to think. If he had heard right, those Desians over the radio were not Desians at all. He had no idea what they could be, and he had no theories. His mother would get a kick out of that revelation—that the Desians who visited Triet probably weren't Desians to begin with. The more he thought about it, the more it made a weird sort of sense.

There was no ranch in that area. There were no raids, the Desians that passed through had generally been reasonable, and interracial skirmishes were rare. People who came to Triet from other parts of the world all agreed: the Triet-Desian relationship was remarkably civil, perhaps suspiciously so. And there was no non-aggression treaty to speak of.

A few miles out of Triet, a disturbing thought happened upon him. What if his mother had known? Maybe she had more knowledge than she let on, and she had only settled here because she was aware that Triet was occupied not by Desians, but by their indifferent lookalikes, who had little interest in human affairs. Maybe she had deemed it safest to raise a son wanted by Desians in a place where there was a faction actively trying to keep them out.

Maybe it had all been by chance. Maybe she had simply stumbled on a place where it seemed safe enough to let her son grow up without fear of Desian intervention. Lloyd could not decide with was more likely.

His mother had always been clever. Then again, she often said that she had always been a little lucky, too.


	13. A Shape in the Doorway

"Oh, and Anna!"

"Yes?" Anna stopped in her eager tracks and turned. Her boss had a way of protracting the length of goodbyes to ludicrous proportions. Perhaps the old woman was lonely, perhaps she liked to see people in a hurry get stalled.

"Can you pop into the fortune-teller's place? She didn't show up for her basket today. She might be feeling under the weather, and it's always good business to take care of our customers, am I correct?"

Anna gave in. "You are."

"You're such a doll. Here, have some extra mangoes for home."

The old woman opened Anna's shoulder bag and dropped a few fruits inside. Anna didn't care much for mangoes, but her son did, so she accepted them with grace. She hoisted the bag more securely over her left shoulder and took the fortune teller's fruit basket with her remaining hand.

She trudged past the oasis, toward the fortune-teller's shady tent, muttering to herself. She just wanted to get home to see if Lloyd had returned. He had slipped off without a trace early that morning and left Anna with an unguarded bag of fifty-five thousand gald on her table. She didn't know what else to do with it but show up at Barra's house and ask if he could keep it behind his locks while she was at work. He acquiesced, but when she asked him where Lloyd went that morning, he couldn't tell her anything. And now she had to lug that damn basket of fruit all the way past the oasis and then head all the way back to Barra's, then all the way back past the oasis to her own tent, when she'd finally learn whether or not her damnably unreliable son had come home that afternoon.

"Goddamn old woman and her baskets," Anna muttered. "She's not even a psychic. She's a damn swindler, is what she is." Anna had seen her share of clairvoyants around the world, and they all had one thing in common—none of them were actually clairvoyant. When she was a young woman, just getting her start in the big city, she liked to go around to each psychic, pretending to be a widow, making up a convoluted story about her life and the dead members of her family and seeing what they had to say about it. It was not only a great exercise in acting and improvisation, but it had been unreasonably fun. She readily admitted it may have been a mildly sadistic practice, but her director approved of it with uproarious laughter.

Despite her contempt for the preternatural arts, she tried not to be cruel to the local Trieti fortune-teller. She didn't want to stir up trouble, and her boss was quite close to this somewhat hermetic woman and her crystal ball. Some of her predictions, too, were inexplicably accurate. Anna chalked that up to the woman's observational prowess, which in itself was an admirable enough trait. Although Anna didn't dislike the psychic as a person, she didn't exactly enjoy going out of her way to deliver fruit when she was perfectly capable of picking up herself. But Anna did as her employer asked, as was expected of her. She was amply rewarded for it in the form of eggs and cheese and fruit and the occasional bottle of alcohol.

When she arrived at the dark, violet tent, she set the basket down and called out to the woman inside. "Are you in there? You didn't come to the market this morning. I'm here to deliver your usual goods." When there was no answer, she opened the front flap and stepped inside, curious if the fortune-teller had died in the night, or some other anomalous event had taken place.

Anna crept across the carpet, unable to make out any movement in the dim light. Her foot touched something soft, and she looked down to see the fortune-teller lying on the floor, crystal ball glinting at her side, eyes closed.

Anna swore, set down her basket of fruit and bent to help the woman up with her one remaining hand. Her skin was warm—at least she was still alive. But the odd look on her face sent chills down Anna's spine. It seemed that if this woman hadn't passed over into death, she had gone somewhere quite close.

She wondered if she should call for help, or if she should sit here and cradle the enigmatic psychic until this strange paroxysm passed, or if she should just set the fruit basket at the door and leave, saying nothing of the incident. Anna stared into the woman's face, juggling her options in her head. When the fortune-teller opened her eyes and clenched her jaw, Anna nearly dropped her, but the old woman grabbed her about the neck and pulled her close. She struggled for a moment before she realized the lady must be suffering some sort of epileptic fit. She needed a doctor, and fast.

When Anna tried to pry herself from the woman's clutches, she discovered those gnarled fingers had an unbelievably strong grip. The fortune-teller muttered softly, spewing out words Anna had to strain her ears to hear.

"Something evil is coming," she wheezed. Anna started to think this whole trick was a little macabre for her taste, but she didn't protest. She sat in the grip of the fortune-teller, who seemed earnest enough in her visions. Anna knew clairvoyants made a living off of this kind of performance, but she'd never met one who could pull something like this so convincingly. The woman hissed on: "Something old… very old… familiar to you…"

Anna went inexplicably cold. She had plenty of familiarity with very old things, and none of them were good. For a short, inescapable moment, she believed the fortune-teller. Her thumping heart outran her reason, and visions of all the possibilities of the portent flashed through her head. She sat in stunned silence for a moment before she started to tremble. When the old lady went limp in her arms, she didn't know what else to do but heed her warning. She dropped the fortune teller, left her basket of food by the doorway and sprang back out into the late afternoon. She tried to tell her heart to be still as she ran down the road toward her own tent.

_Gods above, Lloyd, please be home_. She arrived at her tent and pulled back the flap to find it empty.

"Dammit, you awful, unfettered child." In a frenzy she could not explain, she began to stuff her things in a bag. She threw clothes at the bottom, crumpled and dirty. "He thinks he's some sort of knight errant, running off into the wilderness like that." She threw some supplies on top of the clothes: a small pan, a bag of rice, some fruit. Water… they needed plenty of water. "One of these days he's not going to come back." She wrapped some goat jerky and lay it on top of her other supplies, then figured she'd probably better take a knife, just in case.

Just when she reached out to grip the handle, a shadow fell across her. Her skin prickled, her blood went cold, and her heart beat slowly, loudly, in her ears. Without moving, she glanced to the tent's entrance, where a tall shape obscured the hazy desert light.

The silhouette was too familiar to her. She could recognize his form anywhere, recognize the noble way he held himself, the coldness that followed him wherever he went. Holding the knife at the ready beneath her long sleeve, she stood up to face her husband.

* * *

All the way to the city gates, Lloyd prayed for the hovercraft. He asked Martel, Efreet, that idol of the pregnant woman he'd found in the ruins, and a whole host of lesser gods to spare his machine. He did not ask them for any guarantees of his own safety. He could take care of himself—it was that poor machine, that hardy little vehicle that needed divine protection from the Desians—correction, Not-Desians—that were coming for it. Gods, Barra and Ezra were going to be so pissed when they found out he had been stupid enough to get their hovercraft destroyed. Even if Lloyd had been the one to refurbish and care for it, he knew Ezra and Barra would miss it just as much as he would.

Lloyd didn't get back into town until late afternoon, after the fruit market closed down and his mother already headed home. He thought he might as well head back as well—he had already eaten the mangoes he swiped off the table and his stomach rumbled angrily. Thinking of little else but what he might have for dinner, he passed Barra's house but didn't knock. He would confess to Ezra and Barra in the morning, when they might have the time to go out into the desert and see if their hovercraft was still around. Right now, all he wanted was something to eat and a few minutes with his oud.

He passed the oasis and stopped to watch the calm waters reflect the light of the setting sun. He adored the reds and oranges of the sunset as they mixed with the blue water. It made the oasis seem as deep as the sky in the early morning. He thought for a moment about falling into that endless water, and just swimming down, sinking until he reemerged on the other side of the world. He couldn't wallow in his aquatic reverie for too long, since an irritable groan from his stomach sent him homeward.

An angry cry pierced the silent afternoon air, and Lloyd picked up his pace. The voice that carried across the oasis sounded chillingly like his mother. He fervently wished it wasn't, but the next shout that echoed down the road solidified his fears. He held his toolkit close so it wouldn't bang against his leg and sprinted down the path, toward his tent. When it came into view, he stopped in his tracks, dropped his tools in the sand, and stared.

His mother, cooking knife shaking in her hand, stood frozen mid-stab before a tall stranger. Lloyd didn't recognize him, but he could not see much of the man. His large hand held Anna's wrist as she grunted, the tip of her knife poised to stab him in the clavicle. With his free hand he held her other shoulder, keeping her useless stub of an arm at bay.

Time slowed, and Lloyd's brain caught up with itself. Of a few things, he was certain—that someone had found out about the small fortune he had amassed and decided to to take it. That this someone, perhaps a friend of those Martellian scholars, was attacking his mother. The man looked like he had tried to enter the tent and Anna had risen to stop him.

Lloyd drew one of his knives and sprinted toward the two, blade raised. Just as he stepped within range, knife gripped in with perfect Trieti form, the man turned and looked over his shoulder.

For a split-second, their eyes locked. Lloyd did not know what the man's disturbing gaze meant, or why a common robber would shoot him a glance so cold, so devoid of fear, or anger, or even the remotest sign of life. Even when Lloyd plunged his knife under the man's ribs, he didn't raise his eyebrows in surprise, he didn't grunt in pain. He simply stared.

Fear shot through Lloyd, overtaking every other sense. Without thinking, he withdrew his knife and stabbed the man again in his gut. The man still stood, motionless, staring, so Lloyd pulled the knife out and plunged it in once more, this time turning the blade horizontally and sliding it between two ribs. The third strike shoved the man with such force he flew into the tent, sand spraying. As the long squares of moth-eaten material engulfed the stranger, Lloyd dragged his mother out of the collapsing doorway.

He expected some thanks, some sort of congratulations, or at least a confession that she had been terrified. Instead, his mother gripped his wrist with surprising strength and hauled him down the road.

"Run, Lloyd," she breathed, and she sprinted as fast as she could, dragging her reluctant son into the town square, past the bazaar and out the gates of the town. On the way, mind still hazy from his encounter, he noticed she had a small leather traveling bag on her back.

"What about the money?" Lloyd panted. "Did you grab it?"

"Damn the money," she answered. She did not let him go, she did not let him stall her, she only dragged him through the sand, driven by an extraordinary fear he did not understand. The last time he had seen her this afraid, they had been sprinting through the dark forests of Iselia, fleeing the shriek of the Desian alarms. Lloyd didn't know why she responded with the same sort of incomprehensible fear to a mere robber.

"He's dead, _el__á_. I stabbed him three times. He's not coming after us," he told her. "He's just after the money."

Anna did not slow until they were a few miles out of the city. She had not replied to his protests, but he let her drag him along. He figured she had simply been triggered by the terrible memories they shared between them, and she would calm down in a while. Then they would head back into town, and everything would be fine. He just hoped that their small fortune would still be there when they got back. He imagined there could be a thief or two in the crowd that was sure to gather at the scene of the drama.

_A corpse and a bag of money,_ Lloyd thought. _That__'__s a classic scene. They__'__ll tell stories about us for generations. _He imagined Anna portraying herself in the theatrical adaptation.

It wasn't until the sun was well below the horizon that Anna finally stopped, panting, and put her hand on her thigh. She bent over and looked at the ground, let loose a few wheezes, and then began walking again before Lloyd could comfort her.

"We should head back home," he said.

She didn't answer.

"Are we not going back?" he asked. "_El__á_, what's wrong… Who was that?" She just kept walking, so Lloyd doubled down. "Someone you know? Was he a Desian? Who was it?"

She sighed, and held her pause for too long. "That was your father."

Lloyd stopped in his tracks. His skin went cold, his heart twisted inside him. A gasp sprouted from the pit of his stomach and ran up his lungs, contracting them. His sternum ached when he forced himself to swallow his cry of surprise.

He didn't know what to ask. He didn't know how. He simply reached out and took his mother's hand as she walked onward, under the twilit sky.

Anna kept shaking her head, mumbling to herself. "We have to… oh gods… We can't even run. He'll follow."

"He's dead for sure. I hit his gut twice. I got him right in the lung."

"He's not dead, Lloyd. He doesn't die that easily."

"You've tried to kill him before?" She shot him an indignant look that shut him up for a moment. But he started again when he saw she was struggling with the pack. "Let me take that. You know…" He almost told her they should head for the hovercraft when he remembered it was probably halfway to the garbage heap by now. Wherever they were going, they would have to walk. They were lucky the weather was ideal for traveling—the sandstorms had passed and the stars shone clearly in the mild, windless night. "Where are we headed, anyway?"

"Anywhere."

Anywhere. They could go anywhere. Lloyd turned the possibility over in his head. They could walk all the way to the eastern mountains. They could see the ocean, see the islands that he had heard dotted the sea around Izoold. He almost looked forward to it, but thoughts of life back in Triet kept him from being too optimistic about the whole situation. He wondered if Anna knew what they were throwing away by running off into the desert. He wanted to ask her about all the things they would leave behind. What about Barra? What about the tent, her job, their money?

He had no answers to any of these queries, but he chewed on them until early morning. When he saw the sky lighten, just slightly, he stopped Anna. "It's going to be sunup soon. We should find some shade and lie down."

She looked behind her, in the general direction of Triet, as if she could gauge how far they had come. It had been hours since the town sank into the distance. They were far enough away that a man on foot couldn't catch them anytime soon. Especially not a dead man—or at least, if Anna's paranoia was accurate, a living man with three gaping knife-holes in him.

So they found a shaded region under an arch of limestone and lay down. Anna had been in such a hurry she had forgotten to pack bedrolls, so they made do by nesting in the soft sand. She pulled some jerky from her pack and handed it to Lloyd. "I didn't have time to take much."

"I'm surprised you had time to take anything at all." He bit into the meat, mouth watering. Anna handed him the small flagon of water and he took a few generous gulps. "_El__á_, how did you know he was coming? It looked like you were already packed up when he got there."

Anna sighed. "It's embarrassing, but you know that old fortune-teller by the oasis?"

"_She_ told you? I wouldn't expect you to believe her. I thought you said she was a swindler."

"She is. She was just… She was having some sort of fit. Her eyes were dead, she was all stiff. She told me something was coming, something familiar to me. And for a moment I believed her. I kind of… we both were kind of crazy, right then. I don't know what happened but I jumped up and ran home and started packing. Somehow, I just knew."

Lloyd finished the jerky and lay his head down on a mound of sand. The chill of the desert night slowly sifted from the air, replaced by a dry heat. He stared at his mother, sitting cross-legged in front of him, eating slowly. "What did he want?"

Anna looked at him. "I don't know."

"Then why was he hurting you?"

She lowered her eyes to the sand. "He wasn't. I was trying to hurt him."

Lloyd wanted to pry more out of her, but the next time he blinked, his eyes wouldn't open again. He was suddenly heavy, sinking deeper into the sand, feeling gravity tighten its hold on him. He did not even have the energy to yawn before he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Do you think we'll have enough water to make it to the mountains?" Anna asked. She sipped from the flagon conservatively, only allowing either of them to drink during rests. Since they walked mostly at night, they avoided the overpowering heat of the sun, but they still drained their water supply at a rapid pace.

"We don't have enough to make it there if we walk straight," Lloyd answered. "We have to go to the south, where there's a few places to draw from. I'm sure we can at least make it as far as the southern hills. Then we'll be fine." Lloyd had been to the south a few times with Barra. According to the man, a couple miles beyond the rocky cliffs that enclosed the desert lay the sea, but he had never ventured that far.

He wished Barra was here with them. Lloyd would feel a lot more comfortable about this whole situation if he were around. And since Anna was quite convinced her husband was close on their trail, Barra's fighting prowess would've been an asset. Even if, according to his mother, his father was not a man to die easily.

Lloyd was still convinced that if he wasn't dead, he would be soon. He had pierced him through the ribs, and there wasn't anything you could do for a man whose lungs filled with blood. He imagined his father dying, he imagined him falling into infinity with only the knowledge that his son had killed him. Lloyd wasn't sure what to make of those thoughts. He had sworn to himself years ago that he would kill his father for his sins, so he figured it was only natural that he celebrate in a sort of half-triumph. After all, his father had been the one to abandon them. He had been the one who had cut off Anna's arm. He deserved what he got.

But Lloyd could not shake the image of his father's eyes, staring at him unfalteringly, even after he withdrew the knife and stabbed again, and again… That look had been something he had never seen before, and he couldn't interpret it. Perhaps it had been the last echoes of life in a dying man, during that proverbial moment when his whole existence flashed before his eyes. No… his gaze had seemed so calm, empty, as if he were in shock. When Lloyd closed his own eyes he only saw his father's, still staring, still drinking in the image of his son.

He thought of his father all night, as they made their way south, to safety and water. He wondered if he would've been able to attack the robber if he'd known he was really his father. He was sure he would've at least taken the time to interrogate the bastard before he slipped away into death. He had so many questions, many of which he was sure only his father could answer.

There was too much to think about. Lloyd almost drowned in his own inner monologue, but reemerged when they finally reached the southern hills. The sun, red and round as a blood orange, peered over the dunes on the eastern horizon, and they slipped into the limestone caverns, searching for water.

When they found a tiny oasis, they stopped to fill up the flagon. Lloyd searched the pack for food, but they had little remaining. His mother must've been in an unimaginable hurry.

"_El__á_," he started, as he sat himself against a soft rock wall. His mother splashed her face in the still water of the small oasis, running a wet hand through her sandy hair. "If it turns out that my father is dead, can we go back to Triet?"

His mother glanced into the water for a long moment, staring at herself. "No. We can't. I'm sorry Lloyd. Things can never go back the way they were."

"Why not?"

"Because… your father… he's… He's the one that turned us over to the Desians. I have no doubt that now that he's found us, they know where we are, too."

Lloyd didn't like the way his mother circled around her words, as if afraid of them. "Tell me, _el__á__. _He works for them, doesn't he? He's a Desian."

Anna didn't answer. She just stared into the soft blue water, mindlessly. She looked like she was about to throw herself in facedown and let herself drown.

Lloyd would not let her, if only because he didn't want her to escape his questioning. "He is, isn't he? Is he a half-blood? Am I?"

"Neither of you are."

Somehow that made it worse. "Then why? Why the hell would he want to ranch other humans—his own family, even? What were you thinking, marrying a monster like that?" _And did you make another monster?_

"Lloyd, please don't be angry with me," she started, but that statement in itself seemed to rile him up. Perhaps he had never fully come to terms with the fact that his father was a real person—a physical man whose blood he carried in his own veins. His mother must've known, she must've known and simply not cared that any child she would have with him would inherit his tainted blood.

Lloyd couldn't help but clench his fists at his sides. "So, you knew, didn't you? He didn't just abandon us to the Desians, he _gave_ us to them. What did he get for it? Money?" Lloyd slammed a fist into the soft rock wall, once, twice. "Did he trick you? Did you know what he was, or were you just stupid enough to trust him?"

He stopped his tirade when he saw tears streaming down his mother's face. He fell silent, watching as the echoes of his words cut through her the same way his father's blade must've so many years ago. He immediately lowered his eyes, wishing he could take it back, wishing he did not have to see her tears. He couldn't shut out her ragged breath, the sound of her trying and failing to swallow her guilty sobs.

"I'm sorry, _el__á__._" He scooted through the sand to her, and wrapped her in his arms.

"Don't be," she whispered into his shoulder. He felt her one arm tug him close, and realized that she had paid as much as he had—more than he had—for making the mistake of trusting the man she thought she loved. "It's my fault. All of it. The ranch, my arm, you, us, this… everything."

"You're not making sense," he replied. "It's not your fault. It's his. You didn't put us in the ranch. You didn't cut off your own arm. You didn't put yourself in a coma."

"I certainly helped… why did I even…" She kept wiping her eyelids, cupping her face, shutting her mouth against her sobs. Lloyd just sat with her at the edge of the water and waited for her eyes to dry a little.

"Even if it is your fault, I do know that you love me. So I don't care."

"Lloyd…" She looked at him and smiled, eyes red. "You're a silly kid."

He grinned back, with the same curl of his lip that rendered both of their smiles so mischievously crooked. She mussed his hair, and he decided that he could not blame her for things that happened so long ago, things over which she had no control. No matter who his father was, he would always be his mother's son. Nothing would change that.


	14. Over the Eastern Mountains

"What do we do now?" Lloyd asked when they reached the eastern mountains. It had been a long, arduous journey, but there had been no sign of his father. They had made it to the foothills, where the hot desert air evaporated into mountain breezes. For the first time in almost a decade, Lloyd saw forests. In the dry foothills, they were merely clusters of gnarled trees struggling to take root in the harsh climate, but he stood in awe of them regardless. He stared at the trees for a little while, until his mother led him further up the trail, into the mountains.

"We go to Izoold. From there, we'll cross the sea."

"How? We have no money to pay for a boat."

"We'll think of something. And you're a bona fide desert thief; you can pilfer our fare."

Lloyd frowned. "Where are we going from there?"

His mother stopped and looked at the sky for a little bit, thinking. "I suppose the safest place would be Palmacosta. If the Desians already know we're alive, it would probably be easiest to hide among other people for a while."

Lloyd sighed, his heart twisting in a knot. "Things really are going to change, aren't they?"

Anna nodded. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I know you had friends in Triet. A normal life, even. I hate to see it thrown away like this."

"Me too." They walked in silence for a few hours. The pathetic knots of trees Lloyd had marveled at made way for real, green forests. Grassy meadows lined the path, dotted with purple wildflowers. The sounds of wind through leaves, of birds and animals, of running water, almost deafened him. He was so used to the boundless silence of the desert, undisturbed by life. He did not dislike this new atmosphere, but he started to wonder how anyone could get used to all this noise.

Eventually they stumbled upon a cold stream, where they set down their things and drank. Lloyd washed his face in the cool water, stomach rumbling. They had run out of food a while ago. "I'm so hungry," he muttered.

"I've managed to pick up a few berries here and there," Anna replied. "But I wish I could shoot us a rabbit, or something. I saw a few a while back." She struggled to pull off her shoes, and lowered her feet in the water next to Lloyd's. "I used to be quite the archer, you know."

"Really?"

"I took lessons at the academy in Palmacosta. It was the only physical education I could stand. Besides dancing, but that class didn't really count." She sighed, wiggling her toes. "I liked it, actually. But I thought archery was all for show. I never thought I'd need it for hunting, or killing."

Lloyd glanced up at her. "Did you ever use it to kill anyone?"

Anna lowered her eyes, mouth taut. "My skill is of no use now, with one arm. Sorry, Lloyd. I can't shoot us some dinner now. We're just going to have to endure."

Lloyd sighed. "I wish Barra were here."

After hesitating for just a moment, his mother answered, "Me too."

"He'd be able to take on my father, right?"

Her mouth contorted into some kind of bitter scowl. "I doubt it."

Lloyd set down the pack and began to untie his sandals. He slipped his swollen feet into the water, letting it wash the sand out from between his toes and send a shiver up his legs. "Is he really that strong? You make him sound immortal."

"Your father… well, his story is a long one."

"That's what you always say," Lloyd groaned. "I ask, '_El__á_, tell me about my father,' and you say, 'It's a long story, _ahmun._' I ask, '_El__á_, tell me about your arm,' and you say, 'That's a long story, too.' I ask, 'Well tell me then, which stories are short?' and you answer, 'The one about the two sparrows.'"

Anna laughed. When her chuckles died down, echoing into nothing among the whispering trees, she looked into the running water, consumed by a thoughtful silence.

"_El__á__,_ I'll make you a deal. I tell you a story you've never heard, then you tell me one."

She smiled and acquiesced. "When we stop for the night. Until then, we'll just have to stick to the two sparrows."

Lloyd nodded. He wished he had managed to bring his oud with him. Then they could pass the time a little less miserably. But for now, with only their voices, hoarsened by the upward climb, Anna sang breathlessly and Lloyd did his best to answer.

"I see two sparrows, flying high."

"Where are they flying, mother mine?"

"Over the mountains, to make a new nest."

"Where will they make it, mother mine?"

"Far to the east, dear child."

"How far to the east, mother mine?"

"East of the hills that burn with strong wind, east of the sea, deep black as sin, east of the beaches, glittering white, far east of danger, and far out of sight."

* * *

"All right," Lloyd said. The sun set mildly atop the mountain's peaks as they found a place to rest. The cool mountain air allowed them to travel during the day, so they waited until nighttime to build a fire and settle down next to its calming warmth. "I'll start with my story." Lloyd had gathered a few berries and now nibbled cautiously on them. He had never seen them before, but Anna had assured him they were edible, and it was better than nothing.

"Go ahead," she said, wrapping herself tighter in her robe and scooting close to the tiny fire.

"Okay, well, not too long ago… last week sometime, I was fixing the hovercraft, and all of a sudden, the control board started making these noises, so I fiddled with it. After a little while, I heard voices, but they were coming from inside the machine. So I just sat there and listened." He failed to mention how he had taken part in the conversation, but figured that detail should be saved for later, when they were in less dire straits and she would find it funny rather than worrisome. "They said what you would expect, right? Warning each other about sinkholes and monsters and sandstorms, but then one of them says that Desians are approaching and asks if she should fight them. The guy on the other end says no, but he says to hide from them. So she does, and it turned out all right, but I thought it was weird, you know, that the Triet Desians would be fighting with other Desians. In fact, I don't even think they're real Desians." He eyed his mother carefully, to see if she would react. She just shrugged.

"The Desians are a big organization. They probably have myriad goals and diverse operations. Doesn't surprise me that some factions will be at odds with the others."

Lloyd pouted, but she just shrugged. "Did you know that the Desians in Triet were different from the others?"

Anna sighed. "I suspected, just by the way they behaved. And I asked around Triet. There was no ranch here, so it was the least dangerous place for us. They had no interest in the townspeople, so I stayed."

"But doesn't it seem weird? I've never heard them call themselves Desians. Only things like 'comrades' and 'operatives' and some other stuff. Now they call these other people Desians. It's the first time I've heard them use it."

Anna looked at him closely, intensely. "Are you planning to go back into the desert to unravel this mystery that consumes you so?"

Lloyd shook his head. "No, I just… whatever."

He crossed his arms, a little pissed he hadn't been able to wrest any information from his mother. He had this sinking feeling that she knew more about these not-Desians that she was letting on, but she was stubborn, and had an uncanny talent for manipulating conversation. Must've been all that improvisation practice back in her theater days.

"Okay, well, now you tell me one," he said.

She stared into the fire for a moment, thinking. "Well, back when I was a little older then you are now, there was a pirate raid in Palmacosta. It was opening night, and I had been drinking, quite an embarrassing amount, actually—"

"You've told me this one already," Lloyd said. "You have to tell me a story that I've never heard before."

"Oh. Have I told you the one where I cracked an egg on my head?"

"Yeah. More than once." They both paused. "Tell me the story about how you lost your arm."

Anna sighed. "Well, you probably don't really want to—"

"_El__á_, please. If you're going to take me away from my home and force me into hiding, you owe me a story about the man behind all this."

Anna narrowed her eyes at her son. "Well, then. When you put it like that, I guess I do. Who taught you to be so manipulative?"

"You," he answered, with a quick smile.

"All right," Anna rubbed her chin, defeated. "It's not a very good story. I was… incoherent, for most of it. I didn't know what happened, but… I have some recollection. I remember we were near Iselia. We were traveling with you—you were three at the time. I… there's a big blank spot in my memory. I was so confused all of a sudden, and I had this terrible ache in my bones. Everything went blurry, and I lost you. I didn't know where you were, so I reached out to you, but you were so far away… that's when he did it. All I remember is desperately wanting to touch you, to make sure you were okay, but I saw this flash of silver and all of a sudden I was in terrible pain. I dropped to the ground—I just remember there being lots of blood, on me, on you… on him. I remember seeing my arm, a few feet away, and the shock of it just… knocked me out. The next time I woke up, it was five years later and I was in the middle of the ranch. It took a long time for even that much to come back to me."

Lloyd stayed silent for a moment. "Why would he do that? Why would he cut off you arm?"

"I don't know, Lloyd. He already had me where he wanted me. I was… drugged, or something. Something had happened to me to make me dizzy and helpless. I couldn't hear anything, I could barely see. I can't remember much. Maybe he wanted to mutilate me to make a point. I can't imagine what, though."

"But why would he wait so long to hand us over to the Desians? Three years after I was born? Wouldn't it have been easier to give me to them when I was a baby? And why would the Desians want us, anyway?"

"The answers to those questions are contained in much, much more than just one story. I have told you mine." Anna looked tired, so Lloyd didn't push her. If it was true that they would be taking a boat to Palmacosta, there would be plenty of time for stories on deck.

"I'll tell you another, then you can go first next time," he said. Anna sighed and agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the boy at the ranch, who drew symbols on all the pipes?"

* * *

Driven forward by a desperation they hadn't experienced since their escape from the Iselia ranch, Lloyd and his mother found it easier to talk to one another about those times. Perhaps it was because the past had already caught up to them and that they no longer harbored any hesitation when it came to speaking of days better off forgotten.

Anna told him how she had found him, how she had orchestrated their escape, and he found himself in awe of her resourcefulness. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you, Lloyd," she said. "You were a clever kid, especially when it came to machines. And I hate to say it, but you have the Desians to thank for that."

Lloyd sighed. "I know. Though, it's also their fault that I'm so stupid in other ways."

"Like what?"

"Well, you know this as well as anyone, how hard it was for me to learn to… interact with other people. It was the Desians' fault. Their fault that I didn't know what money was, or that fruit grew on trees, or that there were such things as nice animals. You know, I had never seen a cat before in my life, before we met that old white tom by the oasis."

Anna couldn't hide her smile. "Oh, yes. You were so scared of him."

"I can't read because of them. I can't do sums—very well, at least. The only thing I can do is fix machines that humans aren't even allowed to use."

Anna lay a hand on his back. "That's okay, Lloyd. You might not think your talents are useful, I don't know anyone else who can build an electric stove from scratch. Or pilot a hovercraft, or repair a radio. But… to be honest, you can't read because you never bothered to learn. Both Barra and I offered, but you were more interested in sticking your little face into a motor than sitting down to endure lessons."

Lloyd chuckled. "I guess it's my fault, then."

"Not entirely. There are just a lot of things beyond your control. In Triet, reading is not a very lucrative skill. I'm glad you did something you liked, especially something that could bring in some extra cash when we needed it."

"Maybe when we get to Izoold there will be something that needs repairing. Then we can stay at the inn, maybe."

"I doubt it," Anna answered, again turning her attention to their difficult hike down the mountain.

On the eastern side of the hills, the air was uncomfortably wet but mercifully cool. The skies glowed a dark grey that Lloyd had never seen before—he was so used to cloudless blue. Whatever occasional storms visited the desert were colored with the dry sunlight. The only thunderstorm he could ever recall had been dyed a dark red.

So when the downpour started, Lloyd was not sure how to feel about it. They were still a few hours away from Izoold, according to his mother. Apart from being cold, wet, and miserable, Lloyd could not help but feel a little gypped that for some people, precious water merely fell from the sky. He felt he had to work for things that the inhabitants of these green, rainy lands did not. But the feeling did not last long—he was already a little homesick for the dry heat of the desert.

When they finally got to Izoold, they were soaked through and shivering uncontrollably. Lloyd took one look at the tumbledown houses, eaten by moss and rot, the patchwork dock, the straw roofs and single muddy road leading through the town, and knew what his mother meant when she said she doubted there would be any mechanical work for him.

"What a shithole," his mother said, before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat. "It's… quaint, isn't it, Lloyd?"

The only beings out on the streets were a few soaked goats, pigs, and muddy children running in aimless, filthy circles. Lloyd tried to keep the cold mud from sticking in between his toes as he followed his mother down the feces-smeared street to the crumbling inn. By the time they arrived inside, the afternoon clouds were so dark the innkeeper had already lit an oil lamp. Lloyd watched the feeble flame dance around as his mother begged the man behind the counter for a place to stay.

After some intense negotiation that involved some less-than polite business propositions from the inkeeper, he finally agreed to let them wash the dishes, sheets, and floors in exchange for a meal and a spot in the corner of the office. "You're going to want to scrub the floors extra well, if you're gonna be sleeping on them," was all he said, before he retreated into the shadows of the curtain behind the front desk.

Lloyd saw his mother shoot the man a judgmental scowl before leading them both to the kitchens, where there sounded the clinks and scrapes of dishes being cleaned. Lloyd took off his shoes, wiped his feet on the mat, began his work.

By the time he finished scrubbing the shoddy inn from top to bottom, he was so tired he was asleep before he lay his head down. There were no stories for him that night, just rest.

* * *

Anna watched her son's chest rise and fall as he navigated his dreams. She could see his eyes twitch beneath their lids, lit white in the dim moonlight. She reached out and put her hand gently on his forehead, running a finger through his hair.

_I__'__m sorry, Lloyd. I would__'__ve liked to stay in Triet, too. To watch you grow up. To watch you find your place in this world, to make friends, to find a lover, to start a family. _

She didn't know what would happen now. Her husband had found them, and he would follow them wherever they went. That meant the Desians would never be far behind. The only thing they could do now was flee, accept that their lives had been overturned, and move on. There would always be a place to move on to, Anna would just have to find it. She would never go back there. She would never let him drag her son back into a prison. She would rather they both die running than live behind bars.

She wondered if that eventuality was inevitable. If the only way she and her son would manage to escape their pursuit would be to throw themselves to death's mercy. She didn't want to think about it—Lloyd had so much ahead of him. He was loyal, thoughtful, playful, strong, smarter than he gave himself credit for… but none of that would mean anything if he got himself imprisoned at a ranch. He would die like the rest of them, like cattle at the slaughterhouse. She would never let that happen. She didn't know how she would stop it, but—

She blinked, and her heart skipped a beat. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a harrowing shiver quivered from the base of her spine to the top of her head. She had not heard him enter, but she felt him, standing behind her. His presence had always been forceful, but now she could barely take it.

She didn't dare lift her hand from Lloyd's forehead. She wondered if this would be the last time she would be able to touch him. At any moment her husband might run her though; he might grab her by the hair and drag her back to the ranch.

She bit her lip and did not turn her head. He stepped toward her, the rickety wood of the inn's dilapidated floor creaking under his weight. Something on his person jingled slightly with each movement. "Could you be a little quieter?" she whispered. "Our son is sleeping."

"Does he sleep as heavily as he did when he was little?"

She had not expected the question. She turned her head to look at him, and saw the shadows of his face outlined in the ashen moonlight. "Not since the ranch." The look on his face told her that her words had cut as deeply as she had intended.

"Should we go outside to talk, then?" he asked.

Anna knew she had no choice. He would drag her if she resisted. And if Lloyd woke up and decided to attack him… well, the boy might not be as lucky as he had been the first time he chanced upon him. He would not have the element of surprise to keep his father's blade from driving between his ribs and out his back, and he, unlike Kratos, would not survive it.

Anna stood and followed her husband out into the cold, damp air. He walked down the tiny street and onto the dock, stride light, head lifted. It still amazed her, the way his feet never seemed to touch the ground. When he turned to her, she realized that the noisy thing he carried was their bag of money.

He handed the sack to her, and she reluctantly took it. "You didn't kill Barra for this, did you?" she asked.

He tilted his head, and her heart twisted. "Who?"

"The man who had this. He was my friend, Kratos."

"No. I didn't."

Anna stared at the bag of money, her mind briskly shifting through the possibilities, the reasons for him giving this back to her. Perhaps he wanted her to trust him again, so he could lead her like a sheep back into the clutches of Kvar. Maybe he was toying with her for his own pleasure; perhaps he was giving her a chance, a running start, for the sport of hunting them down. Maybe there was a sliver of humanity left in him that still harbored love for them. She doubted it.

"I don't know what you did to get this back for us, and I don't want to know. But I can't thank you." She looked up at him, into his deep brown eyes, and marveled at their intensity. She couldn't read them—they had changed since that day by the Iselian cliffs. He had changed, and so had she. "I need you to leave, now. And I want you to stay gone, forever."

Kratos lowered his eyes. "I can't do that, Anna. You're still my family."

She could not help but burst out with derisive laughter. "Is that what you really think? Is that what you told yourself when you handed us over to the Desians? That we'd forgive you because we're your _family_? Are you insane?"

He sighed. "Quite possibly."

She clutched the bag of money so hard her knuckles numbed. Her fist shook, her eyes narrowed. "Leave."

He exhaled, visibly pained. "I don't expect you'll ever forgive me for what I did. To you, or to Lloyd. But… I want to make sure your sacrifice hasn't been in vain. I owe you that much." He extended his arm, fist closed around something glowing with blue light.

Anna released a sharp gasp, not wanting to reach out and take the thing he held out for her, but she couldn't help herself. She dropped the bag of gald and outstretched her hand. He dropped the tiny exsphere into her open palm. The weight felt familiar—welcome, even. The energy she felt flow through the tiny rock was her own, and it sent pulses of power through her skin. The sight of it triggered her recollection, and she suddenly felt uncomfortably close to that day when she had lost her arm, lost her exsphere. She almost remembered…

"Why are you giving me this?" she asked. If he wanted to lure her back into Desian control, he had no reason to gift the Angelus Project back to her.

"Because it's yours."

"Kratos, it was never mine. It was the Desians' all along. It belongs to Cruxis." She hoped she sounded unshakable, but her hand still closed around the little stone. It surged with familiar power, now that it was back in the rightful hand of its host. "It belongs to you and the bastards who own you. I want nothing to do with it."

"Then give it to Lloyd. He will make good use of it, I am sure. Anna…" His shoulders twitched, as if he resisted the urge to reach out toward her. She backed away instinctively. "If they ever find out where you are, then you're going to need this. He's going to need it. So take it."

_If they ever find out where you are_. As if Kratos had not already made his report to his superiors. She imagined him on one knee before the Five Grand Cardinals, expatiating on her status, her location, her son. "Your gall disgusts me. You think you can just give me back all these things… things were taken in the first place _because of you_, and you think I'll come crawling back to you? Is that what you want?"

Kratos looked at her, tearing her apart with his gaze. She never could stand that look—the hints of betrayal, dissatisfaction, pity. "I just want you to be safe."

_Does he hear himself?_ Anna wanted to scream, to cry out, to run back to the kitchens for a knife so she could finish what she started. "Are you serious? You ruined our lives—more than once. I won't let you ruin them again. I won't let you near my son."

The look he gave her twisted her heart in a knot. "Lloyd is my child too, Anna. It is my job to make sure he is safe."

"No, not anymore. I'm the one that stayed with him. I'm the one that got him out of the ranch. I'm the one that raised him, and protected him, taught him everything he knows. I'm his only parent. You're nothing to him." She could see Kratos flinch at the truth in every word she threw at him. She knew she could never defend herself from him—not in a physical fight, so she could only use her words to cut him down. Perhaps that would be enough. Perhaps not.

"I am sorry, Anna. For everything."

The nerve of the man. "That's not good enough, Kratos. I will not consider you anything but an enemy. Now get out of my sight."

Kratos doubled down, scowling. "Go where you will. But I will follow. No matter where you flee, rest assured, I will find you. Goodnight, Anna."

He nodded his head to her and turned, walking off the end of the dock. His feet touched the air as hers might touch soft sand, and he walked upward into the sky, until his body disappeared in a flash of light. She barely caught a glimpse of his fluorescent wings before he vanished entirely.

* * *

There was no use hiding the bag of money from Lloyd. Poverty had made him develop such acute parsimoniousness he could almost smell its presence. Not to mention the conspicuous jingling sound their pack had suddenly taken on. In the morning, when he picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, the unmistakable sound of wealth froze him mid-motion. He stared at his mother for a few seconds before laying the bag on the ground and cautiously opening its top.

He glanced up at Anna, mouth open. "When did you get this back?"

"Last night." She saw no reason to be dishonest with him. After all, there weren't too many excuses for their accumulated finances suddenly reappearing out of thin air. "You father left it for us."

Lloyd seemed just as bewildered as she had been. "But, why? Why would he…" Lloyd looked back down into the shadows of the sack's creases, and closed his gaping mouth, frowning thoughtfully.

"I don't know, Lloyd. Perhaps he's contrite."

He scrunched up his face.

Anna sighed. "It means he regrets what he did."

"He didn't hurt you at all, then?"

"No. It was a much more… polite encounter than the last one."

She could tell Lloyd was unsure how to take the news. But he did what years of necessity had taught him—consider the practicality. "Now I guess we can have enough to pay for a ship."

Anna nodded. She wondered if Kratos would follow them all the way across the ocean. Probably. But maybe, if they slipped deep enough into the crowded city, they might be able to disappear among the sea of faces. It might be the only chance they had to keep him off their trail. Although… he didn't seem like he had been already reported on their location to the Desians. And he had given her back the Angelus Project…

"_El__á_?"

"What?" Anna forced herself to return to the conversation at hand.

"I asked if we should go see if there're any ships leaving today."

"Yes, we should." Anna could feel the little exsphere pulsate in her pocket—unlike the money, it had been easy to hide it from Lloyd. She wondered what she was going to say to him, how she was going to explain its existence to him. She would have to think carefully about what she would say that night, when he inevitably asked her for a story.

But for now, they just packed up in silence and headed to the rotting dock. The only ship set to sail was a rotting dinghy going directly to Palmacosta. They paid more than their share for the passage, since the captain insisted the sea was dangerous that time of year, but the fee didn't put much of a dent in their wallet. Anna didn't want to imagine how they would've come up with the fare had their fortune not reappeared suddenly.

She would not let herself think of regrets and what-ifs. She had to focus on the future—of the dangers and decisions and possibilities contained therein. As she crossed the rickety gangplank into the barnacled hull, she thought deeply of what they would do when they disembarked. She supposed they could look for a place to live. But she knew that it was unlikely that after all this, they would be left alone.

She looked over at her son, who was grinning wildly with the salty wind in his hair, reveling in the foam that splashed up the sides of the ship. She watched his excited eyes follow the billows of the white sails against the cloudy sky, his expression filled with uninhibited wonder. She could not help herself from reaching over and grabbing his hand.

She might not be able to give him a normal life, but she could damn well try.


	15. Ships and the Swaying Ocean

Lloyd spent much of the trip hunched over the side of the boat. At first, he had done it to watch the black waves roll by.

"It's so dark," he told his mother. "I've never seen water so deep."

"You have, you just don't remember it." Lloyd looked over at Anna, her brown eyes staring absently into the distance. She was probably thinking about what to do when they got to Palmacosta. Lloyd wasn't worried—now that they had their fortune back, they might have enough money to build a house of their own—maybe by the sea, even. That way he could watch the waves crash against the rocks and stare into the mysterious darkness that loomed below the surface. The vastness of the sea terrified him, but in a good way. The concept of a limitless expanse of undrinkable water somehow reminded him of the desert. Like the wilderness back home, they had to carry a supply of fresh water with them, and they had nowhere to stop for supplies. They had to brave the nothingness, something Lloyd had done often and with much enthusiasm.

His enthusiasm for the sea, however, declined with the roughening of the waters. What had been his usual position, hanging off the edge of the boat, had not changed—he only substituted staring into the water for throwing up into the water.

As the captain stood at the helm and watched him with a critical eye, his mother bent beside him, rubbing his back as he dry-heaved into the sea. At most, he lasted an hour after eating until he sacrificed his meals to the gods of the great rolling ocean.

At night, when he and his mother retreated into their tiny cabin, his nausea relented a bit. He was able to keep some food down, if Anna supplemented it with a large helping of sugared ginger she had bought in Izoold. Lloyd ate the little chips of root like candy, and worried that he might run out before they touched land. By the second day at sea, he was done with the whole oceanic affair. He much preferred the troughs and crests of sand dunes to those of the forceful waves.

"_El__á_," he moaned, curled on one of the tiny net hammocks that hung in their measly closet of a cabin. "Why is this happening to me?"

He heard Anna let out a light chuckle. "Because the gods are cruel, Lloyd."

"I feel like I've been poisoned. I'm done with this rotten ocean."

"Well, unfortunately, it's not done with you. It won't be for another few days."

Lloyd groaned. "I wish I had my oud. This trip would be a lot less painful."

"It's always nice to have some sort of distraction, isn't it?" his mother admitted absentmindedly.

Lloyd rolled onto his side and looked at her. She sat by the tiny window, staring out over the sea. She seemed to be scouting for something. Either she was searching for land in the distance, or perhaps for something else…

"He's not going to follow us out here," Lloyd assured her. "He might be tough but he can't walk on water."

"You'd be surprised at the things he can do."

Lloyd thought for a moment. "You really do make him out to be some sorta monster."

Anna lowered her eyes. "Truthfully, it's hard to tell if he is."

Lloyd, now occupied with thoughts of his father, momentarily forgot his nausea. He didn't know how he had lived with a man of such violent inhumanity for his most vulnerable years and survived it. "He must not have always been like that," he ventured, and his mother sighed in agreement.

"He wasn't. Especially not back when I first met him."

"How did you first meet him?"

Lloyd spied his mother's hand slip inside her pocket. The thin fabric of her frock lifted when she tightened it into a fist. "I was going to tell you that it was a long story and leave it at that, but I know at this point I owe you some long stories."

"Yeah. You do."

"I suppose it all really began when I was making my debut on the stage. Well, it technically wasn't my debut—I'd been working backstage and in cameos and chorus lines ever since I was still in secondary school. But this play was my first leading role. My director and long-time acting teacher wrote it—he also taught basic theater classes at the Palmacosta Academy for Girls. That's how I knew him. He was a nice man, a good director, but a terrible playwright." Anna paused to laugh. "The script was hammy as all hell; it was panned by critics on opening night. But people just kept coming. They ate it up—we had a full house every night. One theatergoer called it a 'play for the common folk.' And I'm the first to admit, he was right."

Lloyd smiled, resting his chin on the taut outer rope of the hammock. "What was it called?"

Anna looked to the ceiling, biting her lip. "Let's see… it was kind of a flowery name… something-bella. _Isabella._ That's it. I played the titular character. Some young flake who finds the love of her life and runs off with him. The usual."

Lloyd didn't know what "the usual" entailed. He had never seen a play before.

"Anyway, _Isabella_ was so successful it got its season extended. It ended up going on for almost a year and a half… yes, it must've been that long because I remember turning twenty during the extension. The whole cast and crew came out with me to drink." She smiled, staring past Lloyd and into her memory. "That was a wild night. It was that night, if I recall correctly, that the director came up with a novel idea: that we go on tour. We all thought he was a genius—so after the closing week, we left town in a caravan. We had saved up enough to pay for the trip to Asgard, but we made it back twice over—the whole trip was basically an advertising campaign. We'd play music for travelers, act out a scene or two, give them a taste of the magnificent theatric disaster that was _Isabella_. They usually ended up buying a ticket if they happened to be in town on a performance night. And gods, did they get their money's worth." She took a moment to chuckle to herself. "We redefined drama.

"We stayed in Asgard for a few months, selling out night after night after night… we sold more tickets than the town's actual population. People came to see it three, four times, before they got tired of going and just recommended it to their friends. The director was drowning in money, and I was drowning in roses. I had an _escort_, can you believe it? I had to have a man walk me back to the inn every night because suitors lined up to throw bouquets at me."

She laughed a little, and Lloyd decided to slip in a question. "Did my father ever throw roses at you?"

She shook her head. "He never saw the performance. Not in its entirety, anyway. We met him on the road, but I didn't pay much attention to him at the time. We shouldn't have been on that road, anyway. But we thought when we wore out our welcome in Asgard and ticket sales began to fall, we should move on to Luin. All the crew had agreed to it, and we made all the preparations. Right about then, the Asgard council came to warn us about the Desian activity going on around the area. They said it had picked up all of a sudden, and apparently for no reason. They told us to stay, that it wasn't safe on the road, but we had enough money to hire protection. We got lots of it—more than I would've thought necessary, or even reasonable, looking back on it. But still… Desians don't let human weapons stop them from doing what they do. I remember… it was the night after I first met your father that they took us all to the ranch. It was near Lake Umacy, I think."

"The night after?" Lloyd interrupted. "That's suspicious."

"I thought nothing of it at the time. I didn't think he had anything to do with it. He seemed so benign, so forgettable. He was polite, and handsome, but then again so were a lot of my fans. We had played a few songs for him and some other travelers, and he seemed to enjoy them about as much as everyone else. I don't know why, but that night I wanted to practice a couple of the old songs I don't usually play. I had a whole set of lullabies and ballads and such that my grandmother taught me—that her grandmother taught her, and her grandmother taught her, and so on.

"After the set he came up to me an congratulated me on a… what was it… an 'authentic' performance. He said that not very many people sing those old songs anymore. It struck me as a little odd, but flattering nonetheless. Authenticity is not something actresses are often credited with. But he moved on that night, and I didn't think about him again."

She paused for a moment, and Lloyd waited for her to continue. She kept her hand in her pocket, clenching and unclenching it. "I… don't remember much of when it actually happened. The protection we hired was shot down within the first ten minutes of the event. So we went with the Desians—I don't know how many actors you've met, Lloyd, but we're not terribly violent people. Most of us, anyway. We didn't know what else to do but let them lead us all the way to the ranch. A couple of chorus girls tried to escape and they were shot down. So none of us tried to save ourselves after that.

"When we got there… gods above, it was chaos." She looked up at Lloyd, perhaps just to make sure he hadn't drifted off. He raised his eyebrows slightly at her, to let her know he was still listening. "You remember how it was at the Iselia ranch, right? You remember how everyone had a schedule, how you all had a place to sleep?"

Lloyd nodded.

"It wasn't like that at Kvar's ranch, at least not for the first few weeks. It was so full of people I thought the walls would burst. Inside the facility it was full—people sleeping in the halls, in the doorways. We had to sleep outside in the yard for the first few days. By the time they got us through the whole process—delousing, tattoos, exsphere implantation, the whole drill—we were so covered in mud and filth you could barely tell we were human. But just like the rest, we got sprayed down with freezing water and went through the whole rigmarole, and more people took our place outside. We got the beds of the people that died the week before, and in a week, the people outside would take our place.

"But I didn't die. All the people around me were dropping like flies—but not me." She took a second to lay her hand on her forehead. "Within the first week, my whole troupe was gone. I was fine—I mean, I was starving, overworked, miserable, shocked… but my body held up. Apparently I was an outlier. Apparently that's what they meant to do. It turns out that the exspheres they put on us were different from the ones at the Iselia ranch. They had a much higher mortality rate, but I learned later on that the theoretical benefits to the Desians were much greater. Once they managed to grow one on me, the ranch slowed down a bit. Focused on keeping me alive rather than mowing through thousands of people just to grow one measly exsphere."

"You never said you were at Kvar's ranch before the one in Iselia." It didn't completely explain why Kvar was so interested in his transfer when he was a kid, but it held a few clues.

"I didn't think you'd want to know," Anna replied. "But I suppose that was foolish of me. I know I told you my tattoo had been on my left arm, but it wasn't from Forcystus' ranch." She took a breath. Her fist clenched once more. "Remember how, at the ranch, you all had numbers, but yours was different from the others'?"

"Yeah. Mine was short."

"And it began with a letter. So did mine. We were part of a special project, Lloyd. That's why they were going to transfer us back to Kvar. That's why when we escaped… they burnt down Iselia trying to find us." A twitch of guilt ran through Lloyd. He remembered first hearing about Iselia's downfall many years ago, but it took him a few years to connect the dots. It was long after there was any chance of fixing the problem that he learned it had been his fault to begin with. "They kept us both alive at the ranch because they thought they could recreate that project. I had already given them one exsphere…" She drew her hand out of her pocket and held a tiny blue stone up for him to look at.

It struck him as relatively normal as far as exspheres went: it glittered bluer than most he had seen, but it was still just a rock. "That's it?" he asked. "That's the one that Kvar put on you?"

Anna nodded.

Lloyd sat up in his hammock. "What's so special about it?" he asked. He stretched out his hand and Anna dropped it in his palm.

"I don't know, Lloyd. I'm not even sure your father knew. But he got me out of Kvar's ranch because of that thing. Otherwise, I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered."

Lloyd looked over the stone, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and rolling it around. "Did he give this to you, too? I mean, when he gave us the money."

"Yes, he did."

"Why did he have it?"

"It isn't surprising that he had it. What's surprising is that he gave it back to me."

Lloyd glanced away from the exsphere and back up at her.

"That thing… I thought it was supposed to be some sort of weapon, or something. I know, it seems strange to me too. But when he learned that Kvar had finally created one, he came to the ranch to take it from him. He found me and helped me escape."

"But if he works for them, then…"

Anna shrugged. "Either he truly betrayed them, or it was all an elaborate scheme. Getting me out, keeping me hidden…"

"Was I a part of that scheme?" Lloyd asked.

"Not that I was aware of… but…" Anna paused, her brow furrowing. "I… heard a disturbing theory. And it explains why he would stick around for years, keeping me safe, rearing you. His actions make no sense otherwise. I mean, he did mutilate me, he attacked us both, and abandoned us to the Desians. If he didn't have a drastic change of heart, then…"

"What is it?"

Anna's eyes wandered back to the window. "I think he was sent to help me escape, by his commanding officers. I think… they needed more of my blood, Lloyd. A human being can normally only make one exsphere in her life, and I already had one implanted. I think they needed me to breed, and your father was the only human who worked for the Desians. They wanted me to have a child so they could make another Angelus exsphere."

Lloyd felt his nausea return with a vengeance. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Who told you that?"

"Kvar."

Lloyd bit his lip. "Then it's a lie. Kvar told me lots of things, too. That I'd be able to go outside at his ranch. That I'd get to eat real food every day. They were all lies, weren't they? So why wouldn't he lie to you?"

"I've been trying to figure that out for years. I've yet to decide which is more likely: that my dear husband, who once worked for the Desians, betrayed them for my sake, then betrayed me for their sake, then, by giving us back this exsphere, betraying them for my sake again. Or what Kvar said was true, and he's just doing his job."

Lloyd thought for a moment. "But if they wanted you to have a kid, why did they have to let you out of the ranch to do it?"

Anna shrugged. "I've turned over that question in my head for a long time. There are a couple of possibilities. Infant mortality in ranches is extremely high—malnourishment and disease, among other things. It could be that they wanted to increase your survivability. Could be that they wanted to see if you would be stronger if I raised you in the outside world, in a natural environment. Well…" she snorted. "Natural as it could be, with us running from place to place."

"And my father was there the whole time?"

"Yes. Keeping a watchful eye on us, I suppose. Making sure we didn't run, making sure we lived long enough for you to be a viable candidate for the Angelus Project."

"And then handing us over when the time was right?" Lloyd guessed.

Anna nodded and looked up at him, her face weighed down by weariness. Her stare scorched his very core. He had never noticed the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, or the way her brow furrowed so deeply. She suddenly looked incredibly tired, startlingly old. Lloyd stretched his arm toward her and offered her the exsphere. She took it in silence, returning it to her pocket, before slipping into the hammock below his.

"I'm sorry, _el__á_." It was all he could say.

"Me too, _ahmun_." She blew out the lamp.

In the dark, Lloyd cranked through this new information. He tried to guess why his father would show up now, of all times, and behave so erratically. Maybe he was insane. Maybe he was just trying to trick them, like his mother believed. Lloyd tried to figure out why his father would return the exsphere. An experiment, perhaps? Maybe he wanted to see what it could do in the hands of its original host.

"_El__á_?" he asked the darkness.

"I'm awake," came the reply.

"Are you going to use it?"

"Use what?"

"The exsphere. Are you going to wear it?"

A long pause. "It doesn't have a key crest."

"But you can get one. Are you going to wear it?"

"I don't think so, Lloyd."

"But you're not going to get rid of it?"

Another pause. "No."

"Why not?"

Her heavy sigh drifted up to him. "Because I think it's best if we save it for an emergency."

"Oh."

She stayed silent for a while. Lloyd thought she had fallen asleep, until she whispered, "You know, he told me to give it to you."

Lloyd wondered if he could do it—wear the monstrous stone that had nearly taken his mother from him. If it would help him protect her, perhaps. But… "Will you listen to him? I mean, he's a liar, right?"

"He is." Lloyd heard the ropes of her hammock tighten, and imagined that she'd sat up. "Lloyd, I'm going to be honest with you. You'll probably see him again, if he follows us to Palmacosta. Please don't fight him. You won't win."

His ego reeled, but he accepted her point. "I won't."

"He might try to talk you into something. He'll probably be clever about it. He might give you gifts, like he did for me. But whatever you do, don't trust him. There are worse men than him around, for sure, but he works for them. If you end up in their hands, I don't know what I'd do."

"Go on a murderous rampage, probably," Lloyd offered.

The intensity in the air vanished when she laughed. "Ah, that certainly is a possibility." The hammock ropes creaked as she shifted to a comfortable position. "Go to sleep, Lloyd. And let me know if you need more ginger."

"I will."

"Love you, _ahmun._"

"Love you too."


	16. Palmacosta

Lloyd almost fell to his knees and thanked the gods of the good earth when they finally touched solid ground again. He stumbled off the ship, jellied sea legs clumsily adjusting to the firmness of the stone harbor. He did not want to linger next to the water, watching the ships sway, lest his nausea return, so he let his mother take his hand and usher him quickly off the docks. Anna led him through the harbor to the town square, where she took a moment to examine her surroundings.

"This place hasn't changed one bit," she said, smiling. She took a deep breath, and Lloyd copied her, sucking in the cool, wet air. It was so strangely heavy, especially compared to the dry climate of Triet. Anna sighed, smiling slightly, and pointed to her left. "Look, over there. That's the old school, and there's the theatre. I wonder if it's still running?" She led him through the crowd, past alleys and streets and shops and one pile of rubble that had not been touched for what seemed like a decade. "That's the old Sea Witch brothel. Looks like the governor-general finally managed to burn it down." She showed him the old monuments, the ones that had fallen to the ravishes of time and neglect, and those still standing proud. Some had been there since long before either of them were born, some had been erected recently enough that Anna did not recognize them.

Lloyd couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the city. He had never seen a place this big, and filled with so many people. The busy citizens clogged the streets, filling it with their noise and heat and smells. They stumbled past one another, ignoring one another, off to home or market or school, feet clicking across the strange grey stone. Lloyd didn't like how they were in such a hurry. He stopped to look down at his toes, brown and bare against the dreary wet cobblestone, and the realization that he was halfway across the world hit him with such force he had to stop and take a deep breath.

He had only heard of Palmacosta from his mother, but evidently she had been unable to describe its strangeness accurately. Everything she mentioned he had imagined quite differently—the clocktower, the governor-general's residence, the schools. He could never have dreamt of the sheer pomp or the astounding height of the buildings. The biggest building in Triet had been two floors, and the first was halfway underground. Now, here in the main street, he faced dozens of buildings at least five stories tall. He followed their windows—_glass_ windows—up to their tops, where they seemed to meet the sky. Everything glittered grey in the rainy light, and he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the spectacle to merely watch where he was going.

"Lloyd, this way," his mother was saying, tugging at his sleeve. He followed her through the crowd, to a small cafe off the main street, where it was quieter. She pulled him inside just as the first drops of a gathering rainstorm fell from the grey sky. She sat him down by the window with their bags, and he watched the water splash against the glass. When she came back with a few pieces of bread, cheese, and a pot of coffee, she settled opposite him and took out their money bag. She counted their remaining funds, and took out as much as was needed to pay for their measly snack, and left it at the edge of the table.

Lloyd's mouth fell open at the sight of it. "It was _that much_ just for this? That's a whole week's worth of food right there!"

Anna looked around, at the few other diners, at the woman behind the counter, arranging and rearranging the loaves of bread they had on display. "Shh, Lloyd. Don't be loud."

He shut his mouth, scowling.

"City living is expensive. But we're going to manage. We just need to find a cheap place to stay for a while, until I can get a job." She looked him over. "And we need to get you out of those clothes. Find you a decent waistcoat."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but he gave in. After all, she knew what she was doing. Even though she hadn't been here for many years, she had lived here for most of her life and certainly knew it well. If she thought it was best that they fit in, he'd go along with her.

When they left the cafe, satiated and reenergized, Anna went through their sack of money and split up the sum between them. She showed him how to hide his money in different places so a lucky pickpocket could not bankrupt him. She showed him the different types of bread in the shop windows, the many canals that ran through the city like veins, the tall masts of the enormous freight ships berthed in the harbor.

She bought him a pair of boots to replace his sandals, blouses and waistcoats and pants in lieu of his Trieti costume. She bought herself a long mantle to keep out the rain and hide her missing arm—all in dark colors, to tone down the brownness their skin had acquired under the desert sun. Lloyd hated all of it—the tightness of his new clothes, the wet chill in the air, the strange looks he got from passers-by.

"People are so _pale _here," he whispered to his mother as they walked.

"They just don't get as much sun as we do in Triet," she answered. "Stay here long enough and you'll look just like them."

At first Lloyd didn't believe her. He didn't start losing his tan until well after they had settled into a dingy apartment in the immigrant quarter. By that time, Anna had found a job at a bookbinder's shop. Every morning she'd put on her mantle and walk out into the early rain, and every night, well after dark, she would return, exhausted.

Lloyd did not want her to wear herself out working for the both of them, so he tried to find a job that would suit him. He wandered down to the harbor, where he'd heard rumors of rich men running motors in their private boats. He tried to sell his skills to them, but they took one look at him, his shabby coat, his dark skin and his poor bearing, and laughed him off. They already had trained men to maintain their luxuries. So Lloyd moved on. He did not need to ingratiate himself to those people. He scouted around the city, looking for work, growing increasingly desperate. He considered it a small miracle when he happened upon a watchmaker's shop. He took one look through the window, at the delicate gears and tiny screwdrivers piled up on the workbenches, and his heart soared.

He burst through their doors, nearly demanding they give him work, and they shooed him out. He tried to tell them he was good with his hands, that he was an expert at fixing and driving a hovercraft, but they did not care. They doubted him—they'd never seen a hovercraft, and for all they knew, he was making it all up. He went back several times and got the same reply the boatmen had given him: _p__iss off, poor boy._ He gave up on the watchmaker's shop, reluctantly, when he realized he was doing a poor job of convincing them he was a qualified tinkerer. It wasn't like he could tell them he'd been Desian-trained, and that he'd had all the skills he needed to repair and maintain their ranches and vehicles.

Eventually, a few weeks after they had settled in, Lloyd managed to coax a warehouse operator into letting him help out for some cash. He was so grateful for the job that he didn't care it was difficult and severely underpaid labor. He needed to busy himself, but mostly they needed the money.

Their funds, a fortune by Trieti standards, dwindled too rapidly, and the house by the sea that Lloyd imagined building made way for the much less pleasing reality that they had to share a three-room apartment with another family from some island around Thoda.

Lloyd knew it wasn't uncommon for poor families to live in an apartment meant for one or two people. But he never expected he'd have to share such a tiny space with a family so large, and seemingly growing larger by the day.

"That poor wife," Anna said one day, as they lay on the floor of their room. They had not yet saved enough to buy real beds. "If I pumped out that many children that fast, I'd be dead by now."

Of course, they always discussed things in Trieti when the other family was around. He wished that he could find some privacy in this city, but everywhere he went seemed to be saturated with people. He felt like he was drowning in them, but perhaps that's what his mother intended—to hide among the masses. Still, Lloyd missed the wilderness, the ability to simply leave his tent and walk in one direction until he was completely, utterly alone. He couldn't imagine living in a tent in Palmacosta the same way he had back at home.

The Thodan immigrants were kind enough—a little loud, but still decent company. They insisted that they would be rich very soon, that one day (definitely within the year), the husband would get his lucky break and they would move to the seaside quarter, where the stained glass windows looked out over the harbor, and every one of their children could have his or her own room. Lloyd wished the best for them. He couldn't imagine sleeping the way they did: children piled onto the floor of their bedroom, arms and legs spilling out into the hall.

Anna and Lloyd fit almost comfortably in their own room. They had no choice but to lay their thin mats on opposite sides of the space, so that each would have room to stretch. There was a thin bookshelf that barely fit against the wall, a tiny closet into which they stuffed their every belonging, and creaky, peeling floorboards that Anna proved were good for storage.

The first thing she did when they made their first payment on the room was peel up the loosest floorboard she could find.

"What are you doing?" Lloyd asked her, appalled. "They said we'd have to pay for any damage!"

"Don't worry, Lloyd. They won't know." She yanked up the rotting wood with all her strength, and placed the tiny exsphere underneath. When she lay the board back down and pushed down its edges, Lloyd could barely tell it had been moved. Anna lay her mat on top of the hiding place. "Now it's saved for an emergency."

Lloyd hoped that emergency would never come, but he contemplated the possibility often. He imagined his father following him through the streets, hand on his sword hilt, blending in perfectly with the crowd. And there was always talk of Desian raids, kidnappings, the upswing of crime rates, fatal tavern brawls, and skirmishes with the city militia.

Saturated with such horror stories, Lloyd decided to buy a couple of knives down at the harbor, and keep them hidden under his coat, just in case. They were short, probably useless against his father—or any other attacker, for that matter—but they were small enough to fail to attract attention, and light enough that he could bring them with him wherever he went.

He especially made sure to carry them to and from work. In the early mornings, when the streets were emptier, when the light was pale and the air chilly, he made the trip alone. If his father wanted to hurt him without being seen, that would be the best the time to do it. Or on his way home, after the sun had set and there were plenty of alleys to spring from.

He usually walked alone to and from the warehouse district, but occasionally at night, usually near the end of the week, he would see a golden-haired girl make her way down the same streets he did. Where she came from, he didn't know, but he knew by the turnoff she took that her destination was in the seaside district. Perhaps she was a rich man's daughter, perhaps a maid who worked at night in a mansion. He never mustered the courage to ask her.

It was she who initiated their first conversation. One night, when the moon was new and the street especially dark, she turned her golden head and saw him following her. He stopped, taking in a sharp breath. His heart thumped wildly, and he was afraid she would run. He wanted to tell her he wasn't stalking her, he was only taking the fastest route home, that—

"Hey!" she called out. She waved him over, and he walked up to her.

"Yeah?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

"I keep seeing you walking," she said. "You look lonely."

Lloyd wasn't sure how to reply. "Uh—well I—"

"Don't worry. You can walk with me. I like the company." He gulped and started to follow her. "It's nice to get to talk with a regular person, for once. I'm always surrounded by clergy, and it gets kind of annoying, to be honest."

"Clergy?"

"Yeah, I work at the Church down the road."

"Oh." He gulped, not sure what to say.

"So, you're from Triet?" she asked.

"How can you tell?"

"I went through Triet once; you just seem like you're from there."

He wondered why she thought that. As far as he was concerned, he resembled your regular Palmacostan youth—or maybe he only thought so because he wasn't completely familiar with what a Palmacostan youth should really look or act like. Perhaps she guessed he was from the desert because he still hadn't lost all the pigment in his skin. She, in contrast, seemed to glow a perfect white under the clouds, lit up by reflections of the city's lights. He wondered how a human being ever managed to get that wan, and momentarily considered the possibility that she had some sort of sickness.

She asked him how old he was, who he lived with, and he answered as best he could without giving away anything his mother would not want him to share. He told her where he lived, and wondered if she had ever been to his neighborhood. Probably not—girls like her belonged in a higher sphere.

They weren't halfway through their first conversation when it came time for them to split up and make their way back to their respective homes—he to the immigrant quarter, she to the row of beautiful stone houses nearer to the shore. He waved her goodbye, watching her go, heart thumping with excitement at the unexpected interaction. It took him a while to realize that he had talked the entire time about himself, and that he knew nothing about her.

He hadn't even asked for her name.

* * *

Lloyd sat at the apartment's tiny kitchen table in the early morning, weaving his mother's hair while she read the paper. He ran his fingers through her curls and tugged them tight.

"Sorry to make you do this, Lloyd, but you've seen the frizz." She turned the page, reading on. "The horrible, horrible frizz. I feel like I'm in grade school again. It's the damn humidity."

"No worries, _el__á_. I think it's cute."

"Of course you do. Just be thankful you weren't born with my hair." The kettle started to scream, and Lloyd swore, letting go of her braid. As soon as he did, it unwound violently and puffed back up to its previous, obscene volume. He shook his head, pouring them both tea, and resumed his work. He'd have to start all over—there were days when Anna's mess of hair refused to be subdued. In the desert, when the dry air did not make it curl so dramatically, she could leave it down. Here, she made him braid it every morning, since she found it difficult to do herself with just one hand.

She sipped her tea, sighing. She hummed a little melody to herself as Lloyd quickly finished the plait, laying it down against her back, where it lay still, defeated. "Sorry, it's not very well made," he said. "But I have to be to work soon."

"Hey, as long as it's made at all," Anna said, finishing her cup and standing. "I can't show up to work without it pulled back. My boss will say, 'Oi, Anna, _darling_, something must be wrong; you're hair's not braided today.' Nosy bastard."

Lloyd gulped down his tea and threw on his coat. He stopped by the door, and his mother followed him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "_Arhema dochnai__, ahmun_."

"Love you too," he said. "Don't come home too late." He put on his cap and stepped out into the dingy hallway of the apartment building, jumping down the stairs and rushing off into the early morning drizzle. He walked to work with purpose that day, with a goal.

Tonight, he would find out the golden-haired girl's name. He would again catch her on her way home, and ask her about herself. And maybe, just maybe, by the end of the night, he would have a friend.

He hadn't really spoken to many people his own age since he left Triet. He missed Ezra terribly, his foul mouth, his stupid jokes—almost as much as he missed Barra. But he knew if he was stuck here in Palmacosta, it would do him well to make an acquaintance or two. The men at the warehouse were not terribly interested in befriending him—they had work to do, after all.

So he kept his mind on the golden-haired girl all day. He worked through both his shifts, without lunch, driven on only by the prospect of talking to her again. As soon as he left the warehouse, he nearly ran down the street, on the lookout. When he saw the distant swish of her long hair, he called out to her, and she waited for him to catch up. It was the advent of what would become a daily occurrence—the two of them meeting up on the main thoroughfare and splitting up when the road parted. Almost every night, they'd walk together, and strangely enough, never ran out of conversation.

Her name was Colette. She liked dogs, she disliked the feeling of saltwater in her hair. She wore an intricate necklace of woven gold, but no jewels. She was some sort of Martellian acolyte, or something. She had been unclear when she tried to explain her duties to him. She lived in the seaside district, in a large house, with her father. She was well dressed, well off, and well out of Lloyd's league. Still, she did not act like he bothered her when he skipped across the street to walk with her.

She said she went to the Palmacosta Academy for Girls in the daytime, and spent time at the Church at night. Lloyd answered that he worked in the daytime, and worked in the nighttime. He told her that once, years ago, his mother had gone to the same academy, but now she worked all day, too.

"Where does she work?" It surprised him that she actually seemed interested in a topic so mundane.

"Well, my mother works in a bookbinder's shop… although the guy who runs it is a cobbler. He's got all sorts of services there. He does whatever you ask him to, really, if you pay enough."

She chuckled. "And you?"

"I work in the warehouse just down the road from here. You go toward the church and fork off toward the ocean after third street. I pick up boxes, put them on other boxes, turn boxes so they face the right way, move boxes around… it's all really boring."

"Sounds like it," she said. When she tripped on a stray cobblestone, he caught her arm and helped her upright. "Ah, sorry. Big feet."

"You don't have big feet." He mentally punched himself for his strange answer, but she only smiled.

She did not seem to mind his faux pas, his undeniably Trieti way of thinking and speaking, his ignorance about Palmacosta or its customs. Every night, she would just walk alongside him and humor him in his stupidity. She would always ask about him, what he was up to, if anything changed since the last time they walked. It rarely did. There was little gossip and even less news, so he taught her a few swear words in Treiti, and she, in return, told him some lesser-known legends about Mithos and Martel. She laughed with him, told him about Palmacosta's history, about the architecture. She patiently listened to his complaints about the stench of the city, about the wet, the cold, and endured his waxing lyrical about the merits of the desert.

"What did you do for fun over there?" she asked.

"Oh, lots of things. I'd ride my hovercraft, walk out into the wilderness, hunt treasure."

"Sounds exciting."

"Yeah, it was, but I think I liked music the best."

"I like music," she said. "I sing sometimes, at the Church. Do you have an instrument?"

"Well… not here. I had to leave mine behind. But you know the string shop down by the square? I saw a lute in there that looks a lot like the oud I used to play back home. I thought it'd be nice to play again. Though I don't have much time anymore, with work and all. I'd like to get a real oud, but I'll settle for whatever they've got here."

"What's an oud?"

"It's a kind of string instrument. I used to be really good, actually." He paused. "I was going to play it at my mother's wedding, but things fell through. Now we're here."

The silence that hung between them for a few moments was ripe with nostalgia. "Do you miss Triet?" Colette finally asked.

Lloyd sighed. "Every day."

"I'm sorry. I miss my home, too." They came upon the fork in the road where they usually parted.

"Wait," Lloyd said, just as she turned toward her street. "Where are you from?"

"Iselia," she answered, before walking off beyond the bend in the road.

* * *

Kratos sat on the grey, crumbling roof, letting the rain soak him through. He didn't mind the freezing water that saturated his clothes and ran through hair and down his face—he hadn't felt the cold for millennia. He couldn't remember the last time he shivered.

He watched their apartment from a safe distance. He knew they couldn't see him, tucked away in the shadows of the city, but he could make out their faces, every curve of movement, every subtlety in their voices. He sat against the sloping roof of the building opposite theirs and watched them as they marched through their usual routine in the kitchen.

He saw his wife, struggling to cook one-handed. She leaned over the stewpot, laying her stub on the metal rim for stability while her good hand stirred a familiar mixture. Even from this distance Kratos could recognize the scent. She used to make that particular sauce often.

He sat and watched her stir, as his son removed the kettle from the stove. He could not make out the consonants of their conversation from this distance, but he could sense their tones, their drops and increases in pitch, their subtext. He could read any visual clues they gave him.

Like the way his son would stare out the window when no one else was looking, rest his chin on his hand and lose himself in the darkness outside. Kratos would look into his face, at the way his pupils would glaze over, the way his breathing would slow and his awareness would leave him. He could sense longing radiate from him during those moments, but for what, Kratos could only conjecture. Perhaps his son wished to leave Palmacosta and return to the desert. Maybe he wanted to leave Anna and find his own way in the world. Perhaps he wanted to meet his—

Kratos could not give himself that much credit. There was no way Lloyd desired his company for any reason—so far it had only meant harm for him. No, his son would not seek him out, so he would have to remain here, lingering, contemplating from afar.

It made him sick, the conditions his family had to live in. Their whole building was structurally compromised and incredibly filthy. And no wonder, with two or more families stuffed shoulder-to-shoulder in each tiny apartment like so many pickles in a jar. But he couldn't interfere without risking exposing the knowledge he had of their existence. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on the Chosen—which he did, of course. But he saved the other eye for nights like this, when his wife and son sat in the kitchen, talking and sharing tea. They only had a few hours a day when they were not asleep or at work, so he wanted to savor the little time they had as a family together.

Kratos had to laugh at himself. Of course his family time would consist of him sitting on an adjacent building, hidden from them, watching carefully like some sort of predator. He had to hide himself during these hours, so that Cruxis would not see him staring into the window of a nondescript apartment building in the immigrant district. As far as they knew, he was watching over the Chosen twenty-four hours a day, but just to make sure, he had drawn a thaumaturgical barrier a few miles around his position. It extended to the edges of the district, keeping his secret safe. If anyone from Cruxis crossed that barrier, he would know.

His assumption was that Cruxis did not know his family was still around. If they did, no doubt they would've made their move already. He obviously could not talk to anyone in Cruxis about it—at least, if he wanted to keep them safe. So he had to stay here in ignorance, wondering about them, attempting to conjecture how they had lived their lives from what little conversation he could make out. He did not know how they managed to escape from the Desians, either the day Kvar came after them on the Iselian cliffs, or any time afterward. He did not know what they had gone through, and he could not ask them. He wondered what his family would do if he just walked into their kitchen, sat down, poured himself some tea, and interrogated them about their lives. Probably call the Palmacostan militia—if neither of them successfully killed him first.

He watched Anna exit the kitchen and walk to the adjacent room, where he knew they slept. Lloyd stayed behind for a few minutes. He strode to the window, adopting his glazed look once again, and stared out into the night. For a harrowing moment, Kratos swore their eyes met, but Lloyd's gaze passed him as it had every night, and his focus returned to the blurry expanse of cloudy sky.

Kratos liked watching his eyebrows twitch as he thought. He liked to guess what was going on inside his son's head. Maybe he was thinking about the desert, or his journey across the sea. Perhaps he was considering something as simple as what he might eat the following morning, maybe he was trying to work out his existential crises. Kratos had seen him walk with the Chosen, but she had never told him what she was. Perhaps he was thinking about her. Kratos hoped it wasn't so—there was only one ending to that story.

Eventually, Lloyd got tired of sitting alone with his thoughts, and closed the ratty curtains. They were thin enough that Kratos could see his son's silhouette as he bent to blow out the lamp. He listened carefully, and could make out the steady patterns of sleeping breath from all occupants of the apartment.

He smelled gas. None of them were probably sensitive enough to notice it, but someone had left the stove on. Kratos sighed. Lloyd had been the last one to touch it. He stood, leaning slightly against the sky, and slid to the edge of the building. He strode out into the open air, stepping once, twice—bending light and space around him, and by his third step he was in their kitchen, standing silently under the window. He listened carefully for any sign anyone had heard him come in, but all he could make out was steady, sleeping breath. He could hear his son snore from the next room, mumbling slightly.

Kratos quietly turned off the stove. Then he found himself utterly without something to do, so he looked around their kitchen, at their rusty appliances, their well-used kettle. His eyes wandered to their closed door. He considered doing it, reentering their lives unannounced, showing up contrite and repentant enough to force them to accept him back. He almost reached out to the doorknob, until he felt a flicker in his barrier. He held his breath, trying to discern the mana signal of the distant intruder, trying to interpret their intent.

He couldn't, which only meant that it was someone old enough to rank highly in Cruxis. He had only a few guesses as to who it could be, and he didn't like any of them. But he knew that whether they had come for him or for some other reason, he would have to confront them. He certainly could not stay here, in his family's creaking kitchen, hand on the door to their bedroom. So he reluctantly let go, walked across the kitchen, and with a dim burst of blue light, emerged out into the chilly night air.

Within a half-step, wood made way for wet cobblestone, and Kratos appeared in the rain-soaked street, walking through the darkness, toward the steadily intensifying aura of whatever angel had come to Palmacosta. When he got to the main square, he stood at its center and waited. His eyes scoured the shadows, noting the movements of any late-night commuters, the scurrying of cats and rats between the stone fences, the wind rustling the dripping, forgotten laundry. He filed through these minuscule motions, searching for any sign of danger, grasping his sword hilt.

When a familiar figure emerged from the thick Palmacostan fog, he dropped his hand back to his side. He knew that silhouette well.

"Yuan, what brings you here?" he asked.

Yuan raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I might ask you the same. As far as I remember, your ward lives on the other side of the city."

"Danger lies in all sorts of places. I have to secure her surroundings."

Yuan began to pace, taking long strides around the square. "Is that why you set up an alarm barrier around the district?"

Kratos narrowed his eyes. "Well, given the increase in Renegade activity in the area, I'd say it's a necessary precaution."

Yuan stopped his pacing. "Well then. Do what you must, I suppose."

Kratos could see a spark of apprehension in his eyes. "You haven't told me why you're here, Yuan."

"I'm here because you're here. And not where you're supposed to be."

"Where am I supposed to be?"

"You haven't received Mithos' message?"

"No. What did he want?"

"I've no idea; he didn't tell me. But it certainly sounded important. Important enough to send me down here to deliver it when he didn't get your reply. He wants you to return to Derris-Kharlan for the time being. Pronyma will arrive here in your stead, so don't fear for the Chosen's safety."

"Fine. But I have a few things to do here, first."

"Oh?" Yuan's smirk forced Kratos' hand into a fist. "Perhaps I should let Mithos know you've found something important enough to occupy your time here in the city. He would love to learn what you've been up to behind his back."

Kratos ground his teeth. "I'm sure he'd much rather learn the same thing about you."

Yuan's look told him two could definitely play that game. They stared at one another for a few tense moments, suspicions interlocked, until they both forced themselves to acknowledge the draw. Yuan broke the stalemate when he lowered his arms and sighed. "Fine. Do what you will. I will wait to inform Mithos of your… more tangential activities."

"And I shall do the same. Farewell then, Yuan."

As Kratos made his way through the square and into an adjacent alley, he heard Yuan mutter after him: "Don't make any big mistakes, Kratos."

Kratos didn't know what that could be besides a threat. But he did not turn, he did not acknowledge his old comrade. He just retreated, as he always had, into the shadows.


	17. Dreary Mornings

"I think we should send a letter to Barra," Lloyd told his mother. She stood at the stove, hair braided tightly, boiling a pot of cheap coffee. Lloyd had stopped drinking it shortly after they left Triet—the quality of coffee in Palmacosta was miserably substandard—but his mother insisted she would die without it.

Anna stilled, and Lloyd got a feeling that he had said the wrong thing. He continued anyway. "He's gotta be worried sick about us, just leaving without telling him."

"No, Lloyd. We can't. If we let him know anything about where we are, the Desians might intercept the letter."

"Well, we don't have to say _where_ we are, just that we're all right. Please, _el__á_, I can't write it on my own. I need you to do it for me."

"Look, I know you miss him. I do too, more than you'd think. But… we just can't. I'm sorry."

Lloyd scrunched up his face. "I promise, nothing bad will happen if we just tell him we're all right. We don't even need to put our names on the thing—he'll know it's us."

"The answer is _no_, Lloyd. Just drop it."

Lloyd did. Without another word, he got up and left the apartment, skipping his breakfast. He buried his hands in his coat and walked out into the rain, hurrying to the warehouse. Maybe he could ask any of the guys he worked with if they could write a letter for him. He doubted it—the lot of them seemed just as dumb as he was. Maybe that's why they all ended up doing unskilled labor; moving boxes from here to there did not exactly require much erudition. Lloyd sighed. Why didn't he listen to his mother when she tried to teach him to read? Why did he insist that he'd be better off tinkering with machines and embarking on adventures into the desert?

He cursed himself for getting stuck with his job. There weren't exactly many opportunities for mechanics in the city. Besides the few motorboats, who already had their specialized caretakers, there were no vehicles that moved according to the laws and processes with which he was familiar. Everything here was so primitive compared to the desert—the transportation, the people—and _they_ were the ones calling him a dirty sand-rat when they thought he wasn't listening.

Lloyd thrust his chin deeper into his steadily soaking scarf. "Stupid city," he muttered to himself. "Stupid damn pale-ass Palmacostans and their wood ships and wagons and whale lamps." He could never find any materials for his electrical projects here. The people generally had no knowledge of gears or wires, and he couldn't rely on friendly Desians to be willing to barter with him for scraps.

The Desians here were exactly that—Desians, not whatever the desert half-elves had been. He was tempted to see if he could steal any machinery or metals from them, just to play with. Maybe if he was lucky, we might find himself the proud owner of a pilfered pistol, or even a radio. He imagined being able to listen to them chatter like he had back home in Triet, laughing at their troubles and keeping an ear out for trouble himself. It would also be helpful in the event of a raid. There hadn't been a full-on Desian raid in Palmacosta for a long time, but the people kept talking about it. How it was inevitable, and long overdue.

When that day came, he and his mother would hide safely in the caves by the sea. She said she had often played in their shadows when she was a child, and that no one could find her there. She had never taken him down to see the caves, though, and he began to suspect that they weren't real. Or maybe the city had grown enough to annex them and bury them under its cobblestone streets. He knew that if it came down to it, they'd probably just have to hide within the city. He started scouting out plausible nooks and crannies in the alleys behind the warehouse, where it was possible to remain unfound.

The raid hadn't come yet, and he hoped it never would. Of course, the only way to guarantee that there would be no more raids in the future was to ensure that the Regeneration took place and the Desians disappeared from the world entirely. And that would never happen, not since the Chosen died in Iselia.

As if the universe functioned only to laugh at him, right as the thought passed through his head, a blinding white light flooded his vision. He tripped, fell on his knees, rubbed his eyes to get the persistent glow out from them. When he looked back up, vision clearing, he saw a tall, thin beam of black standing against the sky in the north. He squinted at the dark tower, thin as a sliver, stretching from the distant ground to the endless heights of the sky. No matter how far his eyes followed the length of that thing, it never reached an end. The tower seemed to extend into infinity.

"Holy shit," Lloyd muttered to himself. He picked himself up off the street, legs shaking. The Tower of Salvation should not be here. It should be back in the realm of imaginary things, where salvation truly lay.

The Chosen was dead. The Regeneration wouldn't happen until the new Chosen was of age. He or she would be only about ten by now, assuming reincarnation had taken place the instant the old one died, but even according to the priests of Martel, that was unlikely. It hadn't been long enough, Lloyd was sure. So what the hell was happening…

He didn't know what else to do but trample to work in a hopeful stupor. With the advent of Regeneration came the possibility of Desian decline. If the Chosen succeeded, the ranches would disappear, and the half-elves and their ilk would retreat back into the shadows of the world. He and his mother would finally be free of them—perhaps even of his father.

When he got to the warehouse, a few men stood outside, staring into the northern skies. One boy, a little younger than Lloyd but just as strong, was complaining that he couldn't see it. So, to the great vexation of their supervisor, the workers crawled up the side of the building and onto its roof, to watch the clouds dance around the Tower's tallest levels.

"The sky wasn't so clear this morning," one man remarked.

"It's because Martel wants us to see the Tower," another said.

"Or maybe it's because the weather changes," said the boy. He got a bop on his ear.

"It doesn't make sense," Lloyd said. "The Chosen died in Iselia. We don't know if another's been born."

"Well, yeah," said the first man. "They keep it a secret, to keep the Chosen safe. If the Desians found out where and when a new Chosen was born, it's all over."

"You reckon the old one's still alive?"

"Could be. Probably not, though. My uncle came down here from Iselia and he said the whole place was burnt to a crisp. No sign of the Chosen after that."

"But no sign of her body, neither."

It was a conspiracy theory everyone at the warehouse could get behind. They talked about the Chosen until their shifts were over, falling dreadfully behind on their work in favor of gossiping about the Regeneration. When they filed out the front doors for the night, a few of the men clumped together, chattering furiously like a bunch of old hens, protracting their routes home so they could linger and discuss the exciting turn of events.

Lloyd headed straight for the main street, hoping to catch Colette. He was bursting with the news, even though he knew she'd already heard—she did go to the Church every day, after all. They would be the first ones to spread the word about the forthcoming Regeneration.

When he saw her, he ran up to her, nearly knocking her down with the sheer force of his inertia. She turned, unsurprised to see him in such a state—the whole town was in an uproar.

"Did you hear? Of course you did."

She nodded.

"So, what do you make of all of it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"I thought the Chosen was dead. Weird that the Tower would be appearing now, if that's the case."

"She's not dead." Of course, a Martellian acolyte would know. The girl paused. "But I'm not really allowed to talk about it."

"I get it. After Iselia and all." A tiny voice in his head accused him causing the town's destruction, but another chimed in just in time: _it wasn't you that burnt Iselia, it was the Desians. It wasn't you…_ But she had already marked his pause. She reached out and lay her hand on his arm. A tingling sensation crawled its way up to his shoulder.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nah, just thinking."

"About what?"

"I dunno. Lots of things." They walked in silence for a little while, until Lloyd remembered what he had meant to ask his coworkers before the appearance of the Tower. "Hey, do you know how to read and write?"

"Of course," she answered. "Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could write a letter for me. I want to write to, um, my father who lives in Triet. And I can't… well, I can't read or write, so I need help with it."

She smiled. "I can do that. You can come over and use my stationery. You just have to take the back entrance so my dad doesn't see anyone come into the house. He's a little overprotective."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "All right, then. I'll be sure to be sneaky as a thief. When can I come over?"

"I don't know. Sometime soon, though. I won't be in town much longer."

"Where are you going?"

She looked at him with a face full of something akin to remorse, but he couldn't quite place it. "Away. It's important Church stuff."

Lloyd guessed it might have to do with the Tower. He knew he shouldn't pry, but he would miss their walks. When they arrived at the flickering streetlight where they usually parted, Lloyd reached out and grabbed her sleeve.

"Hey. Can I walk you home? You know, drunken, rowdy sailors about."

She chuckled. "You don't have to worry about me. I have lots of friends in high places."

"Okay, then. Well, can I walk you home because I enjoy your company?"

"That should be just fine." She took his arm and led him down the street, toward the glowing lights of the seaside district. He tried to look into the warm window of every house he passed, cataloguing the treasures contained inside. His inner Trieti treasure hunter bubbled to the surface and he quelled it, telling himself to not give into the greed that poverty had instilled in him years ago. But he saw some things his mother would really like, hanging from shelves, decorating the tables put on display in these affluent homes.

Colette told him who lived where, who was rude and who was nice, who had dogs and who didn't. Lloyd was curious to know who had worked for their money and who had come to it by luck or some lesser means, but he didn't ask. She didn't seem like she would know that.

When they arrived at her house, he left her on the front step. "Hey, Lloyd. Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem. Maybe I can do it again sometime."

"I'd like that."

He bowed to her, as he had seen some Palmacostan gentlemen do, and she curtsied back before she slipped into her house and out of sight.

It suddenly hit Lloyd how coldly the night air swept through the street. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and skipped home, trying to keep warm.

* * *

Anna saw the Tower on her way to work, standing proud and arrogant against the dilute blue sky. She had kept the image of it in her head while she printed and copied and bound countless books, turning the shaft of the printing press over and over, mindlessly.

No wonder he had waited until now to descend on their world and make a mess of their lives. It wasn't too far out of the way, if he was just doing his job. But she couldn't understand why he would waste his time talking to them—besides genuine sadism. She didn't understand why he would give her the Angelus Project, why he would seek them out and hand over something that obviously belonged to his overlords. She wondered if he had been commanded to do it, or if he had done it of his own volition.

She remained distracted by her thoughts throughout the day, but somehow managed to work her whole shift without crushing any of her remaining limbs between the press and the stacks of thick paper. She watched the rain patter against the back window of the shop, absentminded, as the hours crawled by. When she gathered her mantle and wrapped it around her, the sun had already crept behind the adjacent buildings, and the rain fell heavy and dark against the glass. She made her way to the front of the shop, ignoring her employer's curmudgeonly farewell, and stepped out onto the street. She took a few deep breaths, listening to the muffled tapping of the rain against her hood, and started her long walk home.

Halfway back to the immigrant district, she took a left when she should've gone straight. She kept her head down, her arm hidden, walked past a group of laughing students, a mother carrying a crying infant, a few work-worn people trudging back home after a long day. She made her way through the town square, past the rubble of the old whorehouse, down the alleyway, and finally emerged into the courtyard of the old theater.

For a few long minutes she just stared at the gold-trimmed double doors, the bright lights lining the entrance, rainproof paint daubed on its side in floral loops. In the center of the square sat a bench and a fountain—two installments that hadn't been there when she had worked at the theater. She drifted over to the marble bench and seated herself, facing the entrance. She watched the theater for a while, until whatever performance inside ended and groups of well-dressed theatergoers filed out the doors, deep in conversation. She could tell by their looks they had seen some sort of tragedy, though from some of their lively quips she figured it probably wasn't a very good one. She waited until they all left, then kept staring, watching a boy in an usher's uniform dust off the front steps.

He had dark hair and an earnest look, and if she stared for long enough and lost her focus, he almost looked like Lloyd…

She realized that she was not alone on the bench. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the relaxed bend in his leg, his elbows resting on his knees, his white hands folded over one another, almost as if in prayer. The drizzle flattened his hair against his forehead, his gaze fixed on the theater entrance, on the boy cleaning the steps.

Anna wondered if he would mistake him for Lloyd. Somehow she wished he would, but she knew he was too perceptive. He didn't take his eyes off the boy and his broom, he didn't turn to look at her. She hoped he was afraid to.

"I'm leaving for a while," he said.

"I know," she said. The appearance of the Tower told her as much. "You're going to drag the Chosen up to die at the top of the damnable thing, aren't you?"

He sighed. "Yes. I have been assigned to accompany the Chosen on her journey."

"So I take it she's not dead, then."

"No."

"Not yet."

She drank in his pause. "Not yet." She could see him move his wet hands painfully slowly, wringing them. "I have been summoned back to Derris-Kharlan for the time being. I don't know why—likely to make final preparations for the Regeneration. You will probably be safer without me lingering, anyway. But I have to go; if I don't, they might suspect that I have a reason to stay in Sylvarant. And if I have a reason to stay in Sylvarant, it means you're alive. Worse still, it means I know where you are."

"So, you haven't ratted us out yet."

"Of course not. That's why you're still free."

She turned to him, finally looking him in his one visible eye, still half-hidden by the rainy shadows. "I'm free, but you're still doing Cruxis' bidding like a little lapdog?"

"If I don't, they'll suspect I've found you. They'll follow me to you, and then I'll never get to see you or Lloyd again." He took a moment to look back at the boy, who was now cleaning the door's already shining brass handles. "I'm going to bring the Chosen to the Tower. I'm going to give them what they want. Otherwise they'll kill you both."

Anna lowered her eyes as he stood up. It took her a moment to register that he had stretched his arm out to her. She opened her hands, and he dropped something inside.

"If anything happens in my absence, send me a message."

"What is this?" she asked, looking over the emblem. It looked like nothing more than a hokey piece of costume jewelry, but she could tell something resided in its plating, something that made it heavy to hold.

"This is a line of communicative magitech. I am the only recipient, I have made doubly sure. Although be careful anyway, if you have to send me a message. You can never tell who's listening."

Anna closed her fingers around the strange device. "I don't know how to use it."

"You don't have to," he answered. She watched him walk away, past the theater and into the alleys beyond. He did not glance back at her, nor at the usher boy, who seemed satisfied enough with his work to reenter the building, gold doors swinging after him.

* * *

When Lloyd arrived back at the apartment, there was no sign of his mother. Sometimes her slave driver of a boss kept her late, so Lloyd boiled some tea and set a pot of rice to simmer over their tiny gas stove. It was late enough that the Thodan children were already in bed (if one could call a pile of bodies on the floor "bed"), and their parents were out somewhere, perhaps still working. Lloyd stood in the minuscule kitchen by the only window, watching the smoke from a distant factory twirl yellow from its stacks, coloring the already glowing night sky.

Lloyd never liked the way the city lights were trapped under the cloud cover, reflected green and sickly against the wet streets. He missed looking up and seeing a real sky, dry and clear and dotted with stars. He wondered if he would ever be able to go back to the desert, to see Barra and Ezra again, to ride against the wind in his hovercraft, shaking the sand from his hair. He sighed, his chest tightening. Maybe, when he made enough money, had enough power, when the Chosen had rid the world of Desians, he would be able to go back. He'd go back and they'd pick up where they left off—he and his mother would get a house, Lloyd could start rebuilding his hovercraft he was sure had been dismantled. He could finally return to that place where it was possible to be alone to think, to tinker, to explore the wilderness.

The door to their apartment jiggled, clicked, and opened. His mother, soaked through and scowling, came in, shed her mantle, and walked over to him. She planted a kiss on his forehead and approached the stove to inspect the progress of their dinner. She pulled out a few spices, a handful of dried fruits, and threw them in the pot, stirring gently. Apparently she'd forgotten about their mild quarrel that morning.

Lloyd watched her for a little while in silence. "_El__á_?" he started.

"What?"

"What do girls like to do? For fun, I mean."

She turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Well, girls aren't all the same, _ahmun_. They all like different things, they all do different things."

"You're no help."

"You're trying to get a girlfriend?"

He tried to keep his cheeks from flushing. "Just… wondering."

"Who is she? Does she work at your warehouse?"

"She's a student at the girls' academy. She's an acolyte of Martel, too."

Anna removed the rice from the stove. "Sounds like you don't have much in common." She lifted the pot and nodded to him. "Come help me dish this out or we'll have to eat off the floor."

Lloyd grabbed a spoon and served them both a generous portion. "I guess we don't have a lot in common." He sat down and stared at his plate for a moment. "She's rich, for one. She's pretty, and smart. And—gods, maybe I should just give up."

"I never said that." Anna ate a spoonful, chewing thoughtfully. "Take her to see a play."

"Sure," Lloyd said. "But I've never been to one. I don't know which ones are good or bad, or… what if I clap at the wrong time, or—you know I'm not high-class enough for that sort of thing."

Anna laughed. "Then how about a canal boat ride, or just dinner? Surely you can manage those."

Lloyd lowered his eyes and thought carefully. He knew his mother was trying to be helpful, but her suggestions only served to highlight his ineptitude when it came to this sort of thing. There were no prospective girlfriends in Triet, certainly none at the ranch before that… he was at a loss. He knew that somehow, he would screw everything up, no matter what he did. He didn't want Colette to be disappointed with her last days in the city.

His apprehensions about her plagued him that night, keeping him up. He usually fell asleep while his mother stayed up reading, but after she turned out the light, he lay awake and watched her. She pulled her blanket over her shoulders, lay facing the wall, and curled herself up. He saw a shiver run through her that the darkness couldn't hide.

"_El__á_, are you cold?" he asked. The walls were thin and let the cold in often. "Do you want my blanket?"

"No thanks, Lloyd. I'm fine. Go to sleep."

He stared at the ceiling, arms folded across his chest. Her tone told him that something had happened that day. Maybe her boss had been especially cruel to her. Maybe someone had made a thoughtless remark about her arm.

"Hey, _el__á_," he started.

"What?"

"Why don't… why don't we go see a play together?"

She lifted her head.

"Yeah, then I'll get some practice being, you know, fancy. You can tell me all sorts of things about the theater that I can tell Colette. You know, so we don't run out of conversation."

Anna seemed to be thinking. "Well, I suppose there's no one left at that theater who might recognize me. Especially not at this age."

"I'll see if I can get an afternoon off next week. You should too. I'll go get tickets on the way to work."

"All right, Lloyd. I'll go see a play with you. As long as it's not _Isabella_."

"I'll make sure it's not."

"That's my boy. Now, go to sleep. If you want to go get tickets you'll have to leave early."

Lloyd turned onto his side and closed his eyes. He hoped Colette would stay in town long enough that he could manage to attend both with his mother and with her before she left. He'd have to put off buying that lute, but he'd never seen a stage play before, so he considered it a worthwhile expenditure. Besides, it would tell him more about what his mother used to do, before his father ruined her life.

A disconcerting thought popped into his head. He hoped that seeing her old theater wouldn't trigger memories better left unstirred. He wondered if she would enjoy seeing a play, or merely miss it. He began to think that his suggestion hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

But she seemed keen on it, so he would at least buy tickets. That was the first step. He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, smiling at the thought of sitting beside his mother and watching the curtains rise.


	18. In the Alleys of the City

The tickets set Lloyd back a fair amount. As he pocketed the two slips of paper, he knew he'd have to save up for another few weeks to get his instrumental fund back where it should be. But he didn't mind, if he could do something to make his mother happy. The only problem now was that he was going to be late for work. He bounded down the empty street, heavy breath condensing white in the early morning air. He checked his mental map, searching for the fastest way to the warehouse, and remembered there was a slim alleyway he could slip through, and he should emerge just at the bridge to the industrial district.

He headed for the narrow backstreet, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. He wondered if summer would come soon, now that the Tower had sprung up in the north. His mother told him how the seasons actually worked, but he still had the gut feeling that the Chosen's quest was the harbinger of many good things—weather included. He skipped down the lane, hands in his pockets, squeezing and releasing the tickets. He stopped when he realized he must be wrinkling them. He imagined presenting them to his mother with creases and rips, and instinctively straightened them out between his thumb and forefinger.

He was so distracted by the state of the little slips of paper it took him a moment to realize he was not alone in the alley. A long shadow fell across the cobblestones, a shadow he intuitively knew not to dismiss as just another passer-by on his way to work. Lloyd turned, slowly, and faced the familiar man who was only mentioned in passing as "his father."

He drew his hands out of his pockets, and they hovered about the seam in his overcoat where he kept his knives. His fingers twitched, but he didn't move. His father did not seem too keen on starting a scuffle. He only stood, staring with those uncanny eyes, fist closed over something he held at his side. Lloyd could not see what it was, but it was certainly too small to be a weapon.

"What are you doing here?" Lloyd demanded, question plagued by a vestigial squeak of adolescence. He cleared his throat.

The man extended his arm and opened his hand. Lloyd could see something shine in his palm, gilded and round. His mother's warning about gifts echoed in his head, but he couldn't help himself from reaching out and taking the tiny piece of metal in his hand. He turned it between his fingers and looked it over. It was a key crest—presumably it was meant to arrive with the exsphere his father had given them.

"Why?" Lloyd asked.

"I had never intended for you to have to use that exsphere. But I'm afraid it may come down to it. Do you know how a key crest works?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Good." He turned to go.

"Hold up a second." He didn't expect the man to wait, but when he stopped and looked over his shoulder, Lloyd continued. "Why are you doing this? Why now?"

"Because I need to go. At least for a while, you and your mother will be on your own. I won't be able to watch over you."

Lloyd clutched the key crest so tightly he could feel its shape imprint on his palm through his gloves. "Watch over us? Are you kidding? You haven't been watching over us. Maybe if you were, we wouldn't be in this hellhole city to begin with. Maybe we wouldn't have gone to the ranch."

At this point his father again attempted to make his exit, but Lloyd would have none of it. While his father's back was turned, he pocketed the crest and drew his knives. "I'm talking to you." The man didn't seem to notice the blades' sudden appearance. He just made his way toward the main boulevard, unbothered. Lloyd clenched the hilts tighter. "You think you can just walk out on us whenever it suits you. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"

He didn't know why he did it, in broad daylight, so close to the main street. But he couldn't stop himself out of jumping forward and slashing at the man, knives glinting. Perhaps he wanted to test his own strength, or test his father's. But before metal met skin, his father had drawn his sword and parried with faultless form. Lloyd swung out again, trying to relive his victory in Triet, but he did not have the element of surprise on his side. The flat of the longsword struck his upper arm, sending a spark of cold pain all the way to his wrist.

His hand shook when he gripped his knife. He struck again, but the blade only pierced air. He barely had time to look behind him before something blunt and heavy collided with his shoulder blade. To his abject horror and embarrassment, his arm went entirely limp and his knife fell to the ground, clattering against the cobblestone. A cold, sliver-thin tingling at his neck told him that the blade of the longsword rested there, ready to sever his head from his shoulders.

Lloyd almost convinced himself he was going to die in that alleyway when the blade removed itself. His father slid it back into its leather scabbard with a metallic ring. "If you want to protect your mother, you're going to have to learn a few things." Lloyd turned red when the man let out a disappointed sigh. "A lot of things. Work on your form."

Lloyd leaned back into the offensive stance Barra had taught him. He still had his left knife—if he could just pounce on the bastard when he wasn't expecting it…

That plan ended with Lloyd slammed into the stone street, knife clanging to a halt a few feet away from his trembling, numb hand. His father leaned in with a frustrated grimace.

"The first thing you should learn is when to retreat. There is no shame in running when you need to."

From his awkward position on the ground, Lloyd found it difficult to laugh. But he managed. He rolled over onto his side, releasing a bitter snicker. "Is that what you told yourself when you abandoned us? Is that what you said when you left us to rot at the ranch?" Lloyd continued to shout and jeer at him, even as he sheathed his sword once more, walked out of the alley, and rounded the corner. He didn't look back.

* * *

"Lloyd, what's wrong with you today?"

It was the third box Lloyd had dropped. He'd had to scoop up the contents of the other two between his good arm and his numb one, and bring them to the side of the facility for repackaging. He'd wasted an hour already cleaning up after himself, and the other guys wouldn't leave him alone.

"Wild night last night?"

"Are you _still _drunk?"

He feebly fended off their comments. "It's my shoulder. Something's wrong with it today. I slept on it wrong, or something."

His supervisor was not exactly elated at his clumsiness. "First you come in late, now you're dropping everything? Lloyd, we're not paying for you to break things and waste our time."

"I won't wreck anything else, I promise," he said pathetically. He needed as many hours as he could get if he wanted to lessen the impact those tickets had taken on his wallet. But his pleas remained unheard by the supervisor, and he was sent home when midday rolled around.

He kept his hand in his pocket, touching all the treasures he had accumulated that morning with the tip of his forefinger. He supposed he ought to show his mother both the tickets and the key crest when she got home that night. He would have to explain to her why he had been sent home early that day, and why his arm was suddenly kaput.

He damned his father to hell with all his heart. The man seemed to wholly succeed at ruining his life, engendering chaos from the greatest disasters to the tiniest inconveniences. His arm hurt like a bitch, he had lost half a day's wages, he would not get to walk home with Colette that night…

The only good he could manage to eke out from the day's events was the information that his father was apparently going away. He would leave them alone, if only for a little while. Lloyd hoped he would not show up again for a long time—then maybe things would get at least a bit better. Perhaps if he stayed away long enough, they could make their way back to Triet, and Lloyd could see Ezra and Barra again.

When he unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside, the tiny space was mercifully empty. He set the key crest down on the table and turned on the stove, figuring he had earned a cup of tea.

He tried to sleep for most of the day, turning over and over on his mat, alternately staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then then ceiling again, then the opposite wall. He stayed in bed into the evening, until he heard the Thodan family come in, settle down and send their children to bed. He listened as the couple discussed and then decided to go out for the night, and silently thanked them for leaving him alone. When he heard his mother come in, he emerged from their room.

"Lloyd, you look terrible," Anna said, embracing him. "Did something happen?"

He showed her the key crest he had kept clenched in his hand the entire day. "He gave it to me."

His mother went pale, glanced to the door to the Thodan family's room, and switched to Trieti. "When? How long have you been home?"

"He showed up this morning. I got sent home halfway through the day. Kept dropping things." He lifted his sleeve and showed her the purple welt where his father had hit him. She grabbed his arm and looked closely at the bruise. Her eyes moved to his neck, where the sharp sword edge had left a thin, red line. She reached out and lay a finger gently on it.

"It looks like he won that fight."

Lloyd hung his head and conceded that point. "Yeah. But he didn't have the guts to finish it."

"He's not allowed to, Lloyd," she answered. "They need us alive. If they're ever going to finish the project, they wouldn't want to kill either of us."

"Then why the hell is he even here? He hasn't hurt us yet... if anything, it seems like he's helping us, not them." Lloyd took a moment to calm himself. "_El__á_, what if he really is betraying them, for our sake?"

Anna cast her eyes down. "I made the mistake of believing that exact thing, Lloyd. Don't be as stupid as I was." She sat down at the table and cupped her chin. An uncomfortable silence permeated the room.

"I have some good news," Lloyd started, eager to abandon the subject that agitated his mother so much. "I bought a couple tickets at the theater. They're for next week."

"What play?"

Lloyd turned red. "Well, I couldn't read any of the options, so I just asked for what the person in front of me got. I have no idea what it's about."

Anna smiled. "Ha! So you just walked up to the box office and said 'I'll have what he's having?'"

"Pretty much."

"That's my boy. All right. I'm perfectly all right with it being a surprise. Makes my mundane life a little more interesting."

Lloyd couldn't help chuckling. "It's not _Isabella_. I'm at least sure of that."

"Thank all the gods above." Anna rose, kissed his cheek, and opened the door to their room. "Give me the key crest. We'll hide it away with the exsphere." He handed it over, a little relieved to know it would be out of sight and mind. When it was safely stowed underneath the floorboard and Anna lay herself down on top of it for the night, Lloyd sat against the wall, thinking.

"_El__á_?"

"What?"

"How much to actors get paid?"

"Next to nothing. Why?"

"Just wondering."

She sat up. "How much were the tickets?"

He told her.

"Goddamn bloody Martel, that's a lot. I assure you very little of that goes to the cast and crew." She lay back down and stared at the ceiling. "I'll make it up to you, Lloyd. I'll buy you a glass of fine wine at intermission."

He smiled. "Sounds good." He wrapped himself up, steeled against the chill. The apartment's heating had failed again that week, and no one had come to fix it. Lloyd had half a mind to make his way to the basement and repair it himself. He shivered, but his eyes closed, heavily, slowly.

"_El__á_?"

"What?"

"My father said he was leaving. Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he'll be back?"

"I don't know. Just forget about him, Lloyd. Go to sleep."

Lloyd waited a few moments. His body told him to rest, but his mind still churned. "If the Chosen regenerates the world, will he be gone forever?"

Anna seemed to be turning the question over in her tired mind. "What? No, I don't think so."

"But he's a Desian. If the Chosen succeeds, then all the Desians will be gone from the world," he said.

"From… this world," Anna mumbled, eyes closed.

He mused over her wording for a while. "What do you mean, 'this' world?" Lloyd sat up and looked over at her, but in the dim, green city light that crept through their window, he could tell she had fallen asleep.

* * *

Lloyd's arm began functioning again by the next morning, so he went to work as usual. He felt strangely light all day, like he had been dragging his feet in mud for these past few months and just now managed to find solid ground.

His father was gone, at least for the moment. Lloyd didn't know what he was up to, whether he was off reporting their position to his superiors, or if he had simply decided to leave them alone. The fact that his father's activities were far away and far beyond his control left him with a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced in a long time. They might have to move, they might have to fend off an army of Desians, but that was in the future. For now, they were alone. They could do things like attend the theater. They could work, and live, in peace.

Lloyd's unaccountably elated mood remained with him through the day, and when he walked home that night, it was with a spring in his step.

When Colette met him on the corner, she asked him what he was so happy about.

"I don't know," he answered. "I just feel good for some reason."

Colette smiled and took his arm. "I'm glad. I have some good news for you, too."

"What?"

"You know that string shop by the square?"

"Yeah."

"The lute in the window is waiting for you. I managed to get the owner to lower the price quite a bit, so you can go in anytime and just tell them your name. They said they'd just give it to you and you could pay the rest off later."

Lloyd let go of her and tilted his head. "Really? How did you do that?"

She smiled. "I'm the… owner's niece. He was more than happy to oblige."

"Wow, Colette. I don't know what to say. Thanks, I guess—but that's not enough."

"Don't worry about it, Lloyd." She led him down the street, and he thought about the instrument. His apartment was already so cluttered and crowded, where would he be able to put it? He realized that he didn't really care. He'd throw out all his spare clothes to make room, if need be.

He couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Colette."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go see a play sometime."

Her disappointed frown nearly knocked the wind from him. "I… can't. I was going to talk to you about this, Lloyd. When I didn't see you last night, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to talk to you before I left. This… this is actually my last night in town."

"Oh." Lloyd's spirits dampened in an instant. He wasn't sure what he should say to her, so he went with his instincts. "Sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Her frown quickly disappeared, and again she was her bubbly self. "But if you want to write that letter to your father, you should come over tonight to do it. Everyone will be so busy with preparations they won't notice you come in the back."

"Thanks, Colette. Okay, well…" He tried not to sound disappointed. "Maybe when you get back, we can do something fun together?"

"Of course." She answered with a hesitation Lloyd found discouraging. Maybe she had decided that she'd had enough of him—that she was going to move onto bigger and better things. He couldn't blame her. He was an insignificant sand-rat stuck in a shitty town, stuck with a shitty job. He couldn't even read. He was going nowhere, and she had important things to do with her life.

"Where are you going, anyway?" he asked, following her through the main square.

She sighed. "I suppose I can tell you now. I'm going on the Regeneration journey."

"No way, really? With the Chosen?"

"Yeah. Wherever she goes, I have to go too. Unfortunately."

"You don't want to go with her?" Lloyd asked. His hand found hers and he squeezed. She led him down an alleyway toward her district.

"I do. All I want to do is make sure the world is healthy again. But… I don't really want to leave everything behind, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. But you'll be back here when it's all done, right? And then we'll all be better off." _I won__'__t have the Desians nipping at my heels. My father will be gone, finally. _"Things will be much better afterword."

"I know… I just…" Colette sighed and let go of his hand. She stopped, and he took a few steps before turning to face her. He tried to glean whatever information he could from the look in her eyes, but his gaze was pulled to the shadows behind her. He swore he saw something move…

"Colette, look—" He lurched forward, stretched out a hand, but he never reached her.

In a glint of silver, too fast for him to comprehend, her eyes dulled, her mouth hung open. He caught only a glimpse of a knife blade and a flash of purple cloth before Colette fell. A pair of dark eyes emerged behind her, brown and narrow. They seemed to pick him apart in a split second, assessing him. The face below them lay concealed beneath a large stretch of black cloth. He could not discern the movement of the assailant, and so he couldn't stop the figure from sinking into the shadows. It disappeared into the night before he could even draw his knives to defend Colette.

She fell to the cobblestones, limp, as Lloyd sprang toward the shadowy figure, but it seemed to evaporate into the darkness like mist. He chased it to the edge of the alleyway, looked to his left, then right, down the street, but saw no sign of their attacker. He barely had time to comprehend what had happened—he certainly had no time to chase the assailant down before Colette—

Colette. He ran back to her and knelt next to her, hands shaking, panicking. He screamed for help and drew her onto his lap, looking her over. Blood soaked the ground, his pants, his hands, but he didn't know where it was coming from, he didn't know how to stop it. He cradled her neck, turning it, looking somewhere where he could lay some cloth to stem the bleeding, but there was already so much, and it was so dark… all he could see was the black stains grow and grow, soaking her clothes and the ground.

He felt dizzy, he couldn't breathe. He put Colette down and ran out into the street, screaming for help. It was empty, so he ran up and down its length, shrieking, throwing rocks at windows and rattling doors until the townspeople began to emerge from their houses.

Eventually the Palmacostan constabulary showed up, dragging a medical team behind them. Lloyd showed them where Colette lay, begging them to save her, asking if there was anything he could do to help. He was still offering his services when they tied his hands behind his back and dragged him away from the scene.

"Let me help, let me help her!" he yelled, as an officer searched him and found two stained knives on his person. The looks they gave him and one another made his lungs tighten. "I didn't do it! Let me help. I didn't do anything, ask her! Wake her up and ask her, she'll tell you, I didn't do it!"

He was still screaming when they finally wrestled him to the ground and slammed his head against the cobblestone with such force he was wrenched out of consciousness.


	19. Rat-Catching

"No, he wouldn't do that. That's not possible."

The governor-general's officer, almost leaning through her doorway, gave her an incredulous look. "I know it's hard, but you need to let me inside. You need to tell me a few things."

Anna looked behind her, at the Thodan family lingering in the kitchen, eager to overhear. "No, I'll come outside." She slipped out the door and closed it behind her. The hallway was thick with silence so dense Anna found breathing difficult. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Were you here all last night?"

"Since the sun went down, yes. Ask the family in there."

"Oh, we will, in time." He took a moment to sigh. "We need to know if your son said anything to you recently. About the Regeneration."

"Nothing—well, he looked forward to it, just like everyone else."

"He didn't meet with anyone recently, did he? You know, maybe coconspirators."

Anna thought of Kratos. But if the Chosen was the victim here, then the conspiracy stank of entities other than Cruxis. Besides, even if Kratos had left Cruxis for their benefit, the last thing he'd want was his son publicly executed in the town square. Anna was aware of just one organization that would go out of their way to kill the Chosen, and she only knew them from rumors, overheard years ago from her Desian captors, insubstantial and disconnected. What if Lloyd…

"You're being awfully quiet."

"Lloyd didn't meet with anyone recently… besides her. He walked her home a lot. He wanted to go out with her. Killing her would be the last thing on his mind."

"Ah, you'd be surprised how many men can't take rejection. A lot of them insist they hurt a woman for her own good."

Anna shot him a look that told him he wasn't helping. "It wasn't him."

"The Chosen died from a puncture wound on her neck, made with a small blade. We found two knives on him when we brought him in."

"He carries them for protection. Did they have her blood on them?"

"Everything he wore at the time had her blood on them. He was soaked. No one else was there."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "If it's so obvious he did it, why are you here, questioning me?"

The man sighed. "We need to know a little bit about him. Mostly, we need to know if he was half-blood or not."

"Does he _look_ half-blood to you?"

"Some of them do look quite a bit like us, lady. Just calm down and tell me if he's a half-elf."

"Why?"

"Our prosecutorial procedures change somewhat, if he is. You know."

Anna could only imagine. She lowered her eyes, knowing that if she took a swing at this official right here, she could very well end up on the gallows next to her son. A part of her thought that was probably for the best, but she would be of no help to him then. "He's not."

"I may or may not be back to ask you a few more questions, depending on what we find." The man tipped his hat and sauntered down the hall.

"Wait," Anna called. "Can I see him?"

The man laughed. "Are you crazy? Hell no. He's dangerous." He paused. "Look, lady, take my advice. Get outta this town while you can. You don't seem like a bad person—hell, even good apples sometimes have bad seeds, you know? But you don't want the whole town at your door with torches and pitchforks, believe me. You want to leave before everything goes public."

Anna watched him go, fist trembling at her side. She scowled at him, sending pulses of disdain at his back as he made his way down the hall. Eventually she sighed and reentered the apartment, where she continued her morning routine.

The Thodan family tried to ask her what that was about—apparently word of the Chosen's assassination hadn't spread to them quite yet. Well, it was still early in the day; they'd know soon enough. She just shook her head, finished her coffee, donned her mantle and started the long walk to work.

When she was alone in the street, she briskly trotted through the rain, lowering her head and biting her lips. She sorted through her options desperately, weighing one against another, filing through Lloyd's possible motives, the possible motives of someone trying to frame him, the likelihood of him simply finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

_Gods damn it, Lloyd_, she cursed inwardly. _Things were just looking up, and now you__'__re careless enough to get yourself into this mess. At this rate, I__'__ll have to call your father._ With a start, the necessity of that outcome barreled through her mind. Even if Lloyd had fallen in with the the Renegades, or whatever they called themselves, Kratos would still come flying back to them, all fake contrition and mawkish sorrow. Gods above, she did not want to have to summon that man to her son's aid. But if worst came to worst, she faced an obvious choice: either Lloyd could die by human hands in the next few days, or he could die by Desian hands a few years into the future. Divested of all other options, she knew she would have to do anything she could to at least buy him some time.

Her chest suddenly ached. She clutched at it, wheezing, and felt the tightness percolate through her tissue, fraying her nerves and making her double over. Hunched in the rainy street, she stared at the ground, forcing herself to come to terms with the urgency of her situation. She looked up, toward the street that housed her place of employment, that squat, awkward little building run by a squat, awkward little man.

She stood back upright, took a deep breath, recited a tongue twister aloud and turned around. She gathered her wits and walked back down the street, in the direction of her apartment.

* * *

Lloyd lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He folded his hands across his waist, trying to jiggle his chains into a more comfortable position. A fly crawled along the stone ceiling—it must've come in through the tiny, barred window on the top of the outer wall. He wished he could shrivel down to the size of an insect, crawl away, out into the street, where he would promptly be smashed under the shoe of an ignorant pedestrian. That was all he deserved, for failing to protect her. And it would stop the wrenching pain in his chest.

He didn't know how many days he'd been in here, but the irony that his final imprisonment would be at the hands of humans and not Desians did not escape him. He wondered who would go to such lengths to frame him for a crime so conspicuous. It couldn't have been his father—if he wanted him dead he would've killed him in the alleyway on his way to work. Lloyd figured the man had many opportunities to kill him or send him back to the ranch, but the coward never took advantage of them. Lloyd could not help but wonder why.

He turned to his side. They had asked him many questions, most of which he had answered honestly. He told them about the brown-eyed figure he'd seen emerge from the shadows and sink back in like an octopus into ink. He remembered catching a glimpse of his own stunned face in the dark irises, but he wasn't sure if that detail had been imaginary or not. He didn't remember much. All he remembered was that someone else had been there.

They did not believe him when he told the true story, gasping through his sobs. He told them Colette was his friend. He told them he would never dream of hurting her. They hadn't believed his tears, and they still didn't believe him after his eyes dried and he settled down into a state of partial shock.

They informed him Colette died from a single puncture wound to the neck, and that he was the only armed civilian present. The depth and width of the wound were hard to measure, but they put the size of the weapon in the same category as the knives he carried. The whole event had been blurry, he'd been screaming, he'd gone nuts, so he couldn't help but at least consider the possibility he'd killed her.

He wondered why he would've done it, if he did. He couldn't think of a reason at all. It hadn't been personal, that's for sure. And he didn't even know she was the Chosen until they told him they couldn't charge him only with murder. Mountains of indictments piled on him: homicide, treason, heresy, and, because he had single-handedly condemned the entire human race to decline under the rule of Desians, genocide.

At this point—or so they told him—it was less of a question of if he did it at all, but how they would punish him for it. Since he wasn't a half-elf, he was at least entitled to a trial, but there wasn't much of a trial to be had. The only event of any interest in the near future would be his execution. The governor-general said as much: even if he hadn't killed the Chosen, and the evidence suggested unequivocally that he did, the people would have to know why the Regeneration would not take place. They would have to blame someone. So he was told he would be executed publicly—they just had to decide whether or not to hang him, to decapitate him, or in a show of Palmacostan tradition, throw him in the harbor with his hands tied and watch him drown.

His poor mother. He figured she ought to move to a new town and just forget about him. It would be probably much easier on her if she didn't have to drag her simple, delinquent son around with her. He hoped she would make it to the theater before she left—then he remembered their tickets were still in his coat pocket, stained and useless.

He closed his eyes and apologized inwardly. He knew she wouldn't believe the things people would say about him years into the future. He knew she would never think that he could've done something like this. But… perhaps she forgot that he was the son of a man who would readily try to murder his own family. Who would hand them over for experimentation, who would mutilate them and stalk them and attack them for his own amusement. Maybe whatever demon that possessed his father at the moment he cut off his wife's arm had been passed to Lloyd. Maybe it was what emerged that night in the alley with Colette.

No… he hadn't done it. He _knew_ he hadn't done it. He remembered seeing another person, absurdly swift, come and go like a gust of wind. Very clearly, he remembered reaching out to protect Colette.

He wondered why he hadn't been killed as well. It seemed a good idea to mow down the witnesses, in Lloyd's humble opinion. He thought about it for a while, trying to pick apart the reason he had lived and Colette had died. What if that person had only spared him that night so he would look like the culprit, and no one would investigate further? Yes, that must've been it. The real assassin didn't kill him because he would be the perfect scapegoat.

Lloyd sighed. Just his luck, wasn't it? The gods had given him a murderous father and condemned him to live his childhood in slavery, they had taken away his desert home, they had cursed his journey across the sea, but even now, they were not done with him. He was a little tired of feeling like a plaything for powers higher than himself. But he probably wouldn't need to suffer the indignity of fate much longer. He wondered if, even after he died, the gods would play with his soul. Maybe even Martel herself would be among them.

There wasn't much he could do about it now. His chains were thick, he had no escape plan, no friends in high places who could help him out. He wondered if his mother, with all of her brilliant plans and experience escaping prisons, would show up at the door, keys in hand, and escort him out just like she had so many years ago. She would take his arm and lead him across the continent, to some new town, where they would make a new nest.

He turned his head and watched the light fade from the tiny window. He knew the likelihood of realizing that fantasy hovered around zero. That his mother would get over his death and move on was all he could hope for. And he hoped for it, fervently.

When the sky outside had darkened completely, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to go to sleep, but not five minutes after he nodded off, a clamor sounded at the door. He opened his eyes and saw a guard awkwardly jiggling the keys. He looked like he hadn't used the lock before.

Lloyd sat up, curiously. "I haven't seen you around," he said, as the guard finally managed to open the door. Lloyd had met most of the guards, all of the Palmacostan constabulary, even the governor-general, when it came time to discuss his execution.

"I'm new."

"I can tell." A curious thought popped into this head. Perhaps this awkward, lanky man was an old friend of his mother's, here to set him free. He certainly didn't look like a guard, and there were no others around…

Maybe the man had incapacitated the officers on duty and was now here on Anna's behalf, to set him free. He knew he didn't have much time left, and nothing to lose, so he decided to at least ask. "Hey. Are you here to get me out?" Even he found the tone of hope in his voice a little pathetic.

The man glanced side to side. "No. I'm here to make sure you stay in."

When the man turned his head, Lloyd noticed his ears, their slight points obscured by tufts of brown hair. He squinted at them—they were shaped like…

"No," Lloyd couldn't help muttering. He drew himself into the corner, dragging his chain with him. "No, no, no."

The half-elf looked at him curiously, but didn't make a move toward him.

Lloyd couldn't believe that now, of all times, the Desians would decide to take him back. He wondered if they were already at his apartment, grabbing his mother and dragging her out the door…

Right when the thought took hold of his brain, the city-wide siren sounded a Desian raid. He screamed, tugging at his chains, throwing himself against the bars, attempting to swing at the guard that sat in the cell with him. He got nowhere—he was chained here, helpless, right where they wanted him. The sound of the sirens was followed by the uproar of thousands of people emerging into the street, fleeing their homes or places of work, making their way to the bunkers where they thought they would be safe.

He hoped his mother would make it to that seaside cave in time to avoid the raid. But if they had found Lloyd here in jail, then they would certainly find her out there, somewhere among the townsfolk.

"Calm down, good gods," the Desian told him.

He didn't. He struck at the bars, occasionally throwing a kick or a punch at the half-elf who watched him, just to see if he got lucky enough to knock him out. Then he could steal the keys, then he could get out and go find his mother. The fifth or sixth time that he attempted to attack the guard, the Desian brought out a tiny electronic communicator and spoke into it, yelling above the sound of the sirens and people screaming in the street.

"He's belligerent, sir," he panted, pressed against the far wall, where Lloyd couldn't reach him. "Roger. He's secure. Extraction requested."

Lloyd screamed and swung again, flailing against the chains. He made no progress, flopping like a fish on the sand. He needed to get out, to go find Anna, to make sure she was all right.

Suddenly he realized that the man across from him had a hand to either side of his head. "Cover your ears," he told Lloyd.

"Why the hell—"

In a dusty spray of broken rock and black smoke, the top of the wall exploded. His ears rang, his eyes clouded with smoke, his mouth filled with dust. When he lifted his eyes and squinted, he could barely make out the city lights shining through the clouds of smoke. Somewhere in that mist of debris, a deep glow appeared, strange and otherworldly. He gasped when someone emerged from that glow, a pair of fluorescent wings spreading from his back like petals.

Right then, Lloyd knew he must've done it. He must've killed the Chosen, because the angels themselves had come down to the human world just to punish him for it. He didn't know what else to do but fall to his knees, staring up at the strange creature.

The angel had the same sort of ageless distance in his eyes that Kratos had. He smirked down at Lloyd, tossing a strand of bluish hair from his face. He looked over at the half-elf guard and motioned toward Lloyd. A few other figures appeared behind him, sliding down into the tiny chamber, and as they emerged from the dust, Lloyd recognized their costumes as Desian.

How? How could they have an… angel on their side? Did they have the gods on their side too? He squatted, readying himself, and when the first man approached him, he jumped forward. He tackled the man, thrusting his shoulder into the Desian's sternum. He faltered but didn't give up, and soon the cell was overrun by them, all reaching out to Lloyd, grabbing him. One put something over his mouth and he screamed.

The angel only raised an eyebrow and smiled. "They're so dramatic at that age," he said. As Lloyd was wrestled to the floor, he caught another glimpse of the angel's glowing wings as he floated back into the dust.


	20. III: Dreams and Machines

III: Remnants of a Fractured Era

* * *

Lloyd felt like someone had struck out his brains and filled his skull back up with lead. He groaned, eyes fluttering, mouth opening and closing, lips cracking. He was so thirsty, so sore… He opened his eyes, and a dull, relentless blue light filled his vision. He heard the buzz of lights somewhere above him.

The sound almost knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He shut his eyes against visions of his childhood, when he would go through his whole day accompanied only by the soft hum of the electric lights. He gripped his head, slowly sitting up, telling the memories to leave him. When he was sure they were gone, he opened his eyes and looked around. He found that he was in a cell, smaller by far than the one in Palmacosta. His hands started to tremble, so he stuck them under his legs, crushing them into the foam of his tiny cot.

So this was where the adults were kept in a ranch. It was cramped, but private—well, as private as it could be, since the front of the cell consisted only of thin metal bars, exposing him to any prying eyes in the hall. The darker parts of his mind had always wondered what it would be like to be an adult at the ranch. Now, he supposed, he would find out.

He checked himself over and found no sign of exsphere implantation. So, they hadn't bothered with that process yet. Maybe they wanted him to be awake for it. He wondered whose ranch he was in. Maybe Kvar's, or maybe he now occupied a cell in the Iselia ranch he'd never seen before. Maybe he was in a different facility completely. He thought about it for a minute, and realized he had no preference. Even if he was housed at a ranch other than Kvar's he had no doubt the weasel-faced little man would appear on the other side of those bars soon enough.

He considered the possibility that the angel he'd seen in prison might show up as well. He discarded the idea shortly. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed it was likely just a dream. He had panicked, he had entered that scared state that left his senses dull and his memory foggy, just like he had when Colette died. The thought of her twisted his heart up, but he was certain at this point she was an angel herself. Surely she would come save him, if she could.

He lay his face in his hands and sighed. Little Lloyd, always in need of rescue. _I fall asleep in a prison, I wake up in a different one_. He couldn't help but smile sardonically when he imagined his mother's response to his crisis. Classic Lloyd, she would say. He lay back down, thoughts of his mother pervading his mind. If word had spread of his escape from prison, she would be Palmacosta's prime suspect. If a lynch mob didn't get to her first, the Governor-General's iron fist would, innocent or not. Worse yet, the Desians could have found her during the raid… but she was capable, prepared, she had dealt with raids on Palmacosta before, on both land and sea fronts. She would be fine. She wasn't here at the ranch. She was safe, Lloyd was sure of it.

He wasn't sure of it at all. But he felt himself calm down a little when he repeated the mantra to himself: _she is safe_. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and focused on himself. His lips were caked and dry, his throat was sore, his muscles ached, his head felt like it had solidified completely. He wasn't in great shape, but at least he wasn't dead.

He heard footsteps echo down the metallic hall, and lifted his head to see someone on the other side of the bars. A click echoed in the little chamber and the bars slid open. The angel from the Palmacostan prison stood before him, thin-faced and robed in a long cloak. Without his wings he looked like an ordinary man—a little drawn, a little jaded. But his eyes had the same sort of emptiness to them that he recognized in his father.

When the man entered, Lloyd sat up but didn't get off the bed. He knew that stillness was a virtue in ranches.

"You're awake," the man said.

Lloyd could not help looking up at him and muttering, "Obviously."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He sighed, leaning against the bars. "Have you calmed down yet? Are you going to throw a fit like you did in prison?"

"What, you think I should?"

"If you do, I'll have no choice but to keep you in this cell for a while longer. But if you've decided to act civilly, you may walk with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at this man, with his angular face and long bluish hair. He didn't look trustworthy—then again, no Desian did. People like him only offered walks and talks when they wanted to trick a prisoner into something. But Lloyd sensed an earnestness in his voice that forced him to stand upright, stretching his back and legs, and follow the man out of the cell and down the hall.

The more Lloyd saw of the ranch, the more sure he became that this was not the Iselia facility. That raised his chances of being at Kvar's ranch to one in three. He clenched his fists, trying not to reveal his anxiety, and simply followed the man down the hall and out of the prison ward.

"So, Lloyd, how are you feeling?"

"I've been better." He paused, thinking. He figured he might as well just come out with it, since this man didn't seem to eager to beat him to a pulp like many other guards. He must be high up in their ranks—after all, he was some sort of supernatural creature, wasn't he? "Which ranch is this?"

The man raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not a ranch. Don't worry, you'll be safe here."

"Safe here? Safe, with Desians?" Lloyd laughed.

The man sighed, but said nothing. As they ascended a staircase onto the main floor, Lloyd smelled a familiar dryness, and he stopped in his tracks. His look made the Desian smile a little.

"You recognize the air here? Unusually perceptive, for a human."

"Of course I do. This is…" _This is my home. I__'__m back home_. "We're in the desert, aren't we?" His eyes darted to the unfamiliar walls of the facility, then flew back to the strange man and his strange cloak. "You're… you guys aren't Desians, are you?"

"Correct."

"I heard you on the radio. I knew there was something weird going on here, when you never took anyone from Triet to any ranches." He snorted. "What the hell are you even doing, then? Why did you bring me here? This isn't a ranch, so what do you want me for?"

"Calm yourself, Lloyd. You shouldn't be so rude. You should thank us, actually. It's because of our presence here in the desert that the Desians hadn't come to look for you or your mother. In Palmacosta, under Magnius' watch, it was only a matter of time before they discovered you. Especially with your father crawling around like the curious little rat he is."

"Wait, you know him? Who the hell are you?"

The man crossed his arms. "I suppose it's no use hiding it from you. We are a faction of anti-Desian operatives, the Renegades. And I am their leader, Yuan Ka-Fai."

Lloyd's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure what to make of this information, but he just followed Yuan through the hall and up another flight of stairs. "I don't get it. Why? Why would half-elves fight each other?"

"Because some of us have morals, Lloyd. You and your human compatriots might not believe it, but it is sadly true. I wish we didn't. We'd be better off for it."

Lloyd pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to piece everything together. He wondered if his mother knew of these operatives, or more interestingly, if she herself was affiliated with them. "Did you know about us? That we were living in Triet?"

Yuan shrugged. "No, and frankly, we didn't care. If you were still alive, we were happy to let the Desians sniff you out and then retrieve you from them."

"Why would you retrieve us at all?" Lloyd asked, but before Yuan bothered answering, they arrived at a wide metal door. When it slid open, Lloyd ran out onto the deck, leaning over the railing, looking at the rolling, wonderful expanse of dunes glowing orange in the setting sun. He could make out the first stars of evening emerge from the infinite blue, and he nearly cried with relief. He was home, gods above, Triet was just beyond the horizon… if he set out west and just kept walking, he'd get there, he'd see Barra, and Ezra, he'd pick up his old oud and play all day…

One thing in his perfect picture was missing. He turned to Yuan. "What about my mother? Is she here?"

Yuan shook his head. "Someone saw us enter the town and set off the raid sirens. It was chaos out there—by the time we dragged you out of the city you were out cold, but we couldn't find your mother." Yuan glanced beyond the balcony, into the desert. "She's still out there, somewhere."

_Please be safe. Be safe. She is safe. _Lloyd closed his eyes, slowly blinking, as he always did when he looked up to the sky at night. Sometimes, when he was lucky, between the moment he closed his eyes and the moment he reopened them, a new star would appear in the sky. He was not so lucky tonight. "Will you let me go back to Triet? I still have… family there."

Yuan crossed his arms. "You don't, but I won't hold that lie against you. Listen, Lloyd. We will let you go back, and we won't bother you ever again, as long as you help us do one thing. Then you can go back—you'll just have to work with us for a little while."

"What's the thing you want me to do?"

"We actually don't want you to _do_ anything. Just having you around as leverage should be enough. We won't ask anything of you, really. You just need to stick around, until we destroy the Desians for good."

Lloyd scrunched his face up, then relaxed. "You can't destroy the Desians, only the Chosen can do that."

Yuan snorted. "Well, she certainly can't now, can she?"

"You know anything about that?" Lloyd growled, hands instinctively moving to his waist, where he noticed a suspicious lack of weaponry.

Yuan didn't seem to heed the query. "No Chosen destroys the Desians, really. All they do is force them to lay low for a little while."

Lloyd thought of the mistaken sentence his mother had uttered in half-sleep, that 'this' world was the one the Desians left.

Yuan was not done. "Believe me, Lloyd. We can get rid of them, we just need your help, and a little time. I promise, when this is all over, you can go back home to Triet."

"And my mother? What about her?"

"She can go too, of course. We have no desire to kill her or make an exsphere from her. If she has the instincts and habits of any human mother I've met, she will find her way back to you. You don't need to worry about her."

"I can't help it," Lloyd muttered. In the rapidly approaching dark, he shivered.

"You look hungry," Yuan told him. "Come with me, I'll get you something." Lloyd followed Yuan back into the facility, out of the chill. "We can't have you use the regular mess hall."

"You worried I'll start a fight?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm worried because we have a terrible weed problem. You never know who here is a Desian plant. They'll grab you in a second and drag you back to a real ranch." Lloyd shivered again, but not from the cold. "No, you'll stay in my sight or not in sight at all. Here we are."

They stood before a large oak door whose presence bemused Lloyd. It certainly did not look like it belonged in a ranch—perhaps in a museum, or a refurbished palace from the Sylvarant Dynasty. When they walked through, Lloyd thought they had somehow slipped into another place entirely. They entered the room, decorated with teal marble pillars, furniture of dark wood, decorative tapestries, and more than a few trees lining the walls.

He had been in Forcystus' office before, but even with its ostentatious decoration, it still resembled a Desian facility. The closest thing Lloyd could think of that this room resembled was a Palmacostan whorehouse. Yuan motioned to a dark wooden table in the corner, and Lloyd reluctantly seated himself, still eyeing the walls and everything that hung on them.

"You can eat here, for now. I'll have someone bring in food." Yuan sauntered over to his desk and bent over what appeared to be some sort of monitor. His fingers danced around its surface, but Lloyd couldn't tell what the half-elf was typing.

Lloyd closed his eyes and sighed, leaning across the table and laying his head on his arms. This whole ordeal was a little too much to stomach in a day—he wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat anything at all. A few silent minutes later, when a bowl of… something arrived and was set before him, he proved himself mercifully wrong. He stuffed his face as Yuan sat down across from him, smirking at his indecorous gobbling.

Lloyd looked up at his face, the curl of his sneer, and stopped eating. "Really, why the hell—why did you come for me? If you don't want to send me to a ranch, then why?"

The man sighed. "Well, I seem to have put myself in a difficult position. I don't personally need you around, but Cruxis does. So it's best for both of us if I keep you out of their hands, at least."

"Cruxis?"

"I guess you don't know, do you? They're the people your father works for. They're behind the ranches and the Regeneration."

Lloyd spat. "What?"

"That's a story for another time, Lloyd. But for now, just be assured that I'm not going to give you over to them."

"That's nice of you."

"Quit your sass. It's not for you, it's for the world."

"What the hell do I have to do with the world?"

"A bewilderingly disproportionate amount, actually. Mostly because of your familial relations."

Lloyd twisted his fork in his hand and bit his lip. "They want the Angelus Project, right?"

"Are you familiar with it?"

"I _am_ on speaking terms with my mother."

Yuan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Of course, your mother probably told you…" He took a deep breath, eyes wandering to the ceiling for a moment, where apparently his thoughts were congealing. "She was the one who called out for help when you were imprisoned, you know."

Lloyd tilted his head. "How on earth did she manage to call _you_? Is she a Renegade?"

"No, she's not. And she wasn't trying to call me. She was trying to call your father."

Lloyd lowered his head. It must've been a last resort. But how…

"I intercepted the message, fortunately. I was in the nearby vicinity and found out where you were. Seems you'd gotten yourself in a fair amount of trouble, killing the Chosen like that."

Lloyd went cold with a sudden influx of both anxiety and nauseating grief. "I _didn__'__t_. I swear I didn't." He blinked forcefully, trying to keep his eyes from watering.

Yuan smiled in a way that made Lloyd's hair stand on end. "Relax, kid. I know you didn't do it."

"How would you?"

"Because I know the person who did."

Lloyd sprang up with such force he knocked his chair to the floor. He gripped the edges of the table, teeth grinding. "Who did, then? Show him to me, I'll kill him."

"What's done is done, Lloyd. You aren't going to die for crimes you didn't commit. You're safe here."

"That doesn't matter! Colette is dead; she deserves better than just 'What's done is done!' And my mother. If she's still in Palmacosta, the whole town'll be at her door—they'll think she busted me out! And if they can't kill me for wrecking the Regeneration, they'll kill her instead."

"Calm down, Lloyd. We searched the town from top to bottom. She's not there. There will be no public executions in Palmacosta in the near future."

Lloyd sighed. She was probably already halfway to the mountains, trying to sniff him out like a bloodhound. Maybe she knew that the Renegades took him. Maybe she thought the Desians had. Gods no—what if she was making her way to the Palmacosta ranch, just to see if he would reappear there?

Hands shaking, he picked up the chair and set it upright, seating himself back down. He stared at the floor, appetite lost. Yuan leaned in, eyeing his pale face and his slightly trembling fingers.

"Your mother will be fine. She's survived a lot of things—raids, ranches, trips across the world, she even survived having Kratos for a husband. I imagine that would take an extraordinary sort of strength."

Lloyd put his hand over his forehead and continued staring.

"You look tired, Lloyd. For now, rest. We will let you know what we need from you in the morning."

When Yuan led him back down to his cell instead of a proper room, Lloyd deflated. "What are you gonna lock me in there for? I'm not going anywhere."

Yuan pushed him into the cell. "This isn't to keep you in, it's to keep others out. Believe it or not, this is for your own safety. We don't want any sort of infiltrator coming in and stealing you in the night." When Yuan slammed the bars behind him, he sighed and sat down on the bed. "Only I have a key to this cell. Though I'll have someone I trust guard you through the night. However, I don't want you to talk to anyone about anything, you get it? You're to stay silent with everyone except for me."

Lloyd thought he nodded consent, but he might have just been nodding off. His eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a sleepy sigh.

When he heard Yuan lock the door and turn to go, he muttered, "What _are_ you, anyway?"

Yuan only smirked at him, raised an eyebrow, and left, footsteps echoing down the hallway.

* * *

Lloyd awoke in a human ranch. He opened his eyes, staring at the metal ceiling, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. The ceiling seemed to slide toward him like he was falling up—he threw out his hands to stop himself from hitting it face-first. The sheets flew off him, a coldness rushed through him that stood every hair on end.

He tried to breathe, and found his throat blocked. He gasped, throwing the thin sheet off him and rolled onto the floor, smashing his arm against the concrete. He struggled to get up. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there. He heard fans, he heard the buzzing of lights, somewhere in his nose he smelled the acrid, nauseating scent of bleach and blood, mixed and boiling under him.

He couldn't breathe.

Someone was shouting—he didn't have control of his arms, he couldn't get up from the floor, figures slipped past him in the dark, he tried to swallow and couldn't…

The door opened, the shadows of the bars crossed and spread and made him sick, he gasped in, not enough air, he gasped again. His mother… where the hell was his mother? She was in another room, she had already escaped, she was dead, long dead, and maybe he was dead, too—

Suddenly a vaguely familiar face hovered above him, backlit by blue lights. His lungs tried to spit out air and suck it in, two hands held his temples, turing him toward the face.

"Someone see if he's been poisoned," Yuan said, and stared into his eyes. "No sign of it here…" He looked uncomfortably deep into Lloyd's pupils. "Do you know where you are? You're safe, Lloyd. You're okay."

With painful slowness, Lloyd felt himself calm down. He took a deep breath, coughed, exhaled, his throat opened, his limbs relaxed and he regained control over them. "I'm okay," he said. He looked at the walls, the cell bars, and repeated himself. He was at the Renegade base, he wasn't at the ranch, he had merely been mistaken…

What an abhorrent reaction to such a simple mistake. He clenched his fists, just to make sure his arms were working, and sat himself up against the little cot. His heart still beat so furiously in his chest he thought it would burst with the effort. Yuan knelt before him, looking him over, assuring himself that his prisoner hadn't been physically harmed in any way. "Lloyd. You need to tell me if this has happened to you before."

"I… sometimes, when I was really little… I used to have dreams, you know, about the ranch. But I haven't had… anything like this in a long time."

Yuan sighed. "Well, don't do it again. If you keep this up I'll have to stick you on a round of barbiturates and you won't be of any use then."

Lloyd closed his eyes. "Maybe it would help if you moved me somewhere else. You know… not in a cell that looks just like the kind in the ranches."

Yuan pursed his lips, thinking. "Fine. For now, you may sleep on the floor of my office." He helped Lloyd up off the ground. "You aren't feigning it, are you?" Lloyd gave him an offended look. "I've heard the stories of your mother acting out all sorts of fits at the ranch, just to get what she wanted."

"Does it matter?" he gasped. He still had a hard time speaking. "I'm not going to escape from here." He clutched his chest, trying to relieve the tension that torqued his muscles and lungs.

Yuan led him out of the cell and into the hall. "I wonder about that." He sighed. "It's almost sunrise anyway, you might as well just stay up." As he emerged form the basement into the main facility, the thick strips of glass that ran high along the walls brightened with the rising sun. Lloyd couldn't help but feel a little gypped that he had missed the sunrise and that moment of deep blue sky he valued so much. "Regardless of whether or not you have any tricks up those sleeves of yours, you won't need to endure being cooped up here much longer. We'll be going out into the desert in a couple days."

Lloyd could not hide his sigh of relief. He would've given anything to just walk out of that facility and keep walking, straight into the wilderness, keep going for days. "Are you taking me to Triet?" he asked hopefully. Maybe if he had a second to himself he could sneak over and visit Barra, just to check up on him.

"No, we're not." Before Lloyd could question further, Yuan continued, "You're going to accompany us for a little while. But you mustn't cause trouble. You have to be quiet, you have to be quick to obey, you have to be patient. If you foul up this operation, you're dead. I'm dead, your mother's dead, and Cruxis wins, you got it?"

Lloyd nodded.

"We will inform you when we're to leave. In the meantime, you can either waste away in the comfort of my office or make yourself useful. Botta might need some help with the engines downstairs. I've heard from some of my people you're somewhat handy."

Lloyd shrugged. "I try."

"Good." Yuan looked Lloyd over for a moment. "Remember that we are the only ones who are standing up them, Lloyd. Think about that if you ever get any ideas of running away. We're the ones fighting your father and the Desians. So just trust us."

Lloyd wasn't sure he had any other choice. When Yuan led him to the vehicle bay and left him there, he found that he was temporarily no longer concerned about having choices.

He was suddenly surrounded by machinery. Whirring, ticking, clicking, roaring, motors shot soot into the air, magitech screens beeped and blinked in every color. He almost lost himself in his own excitement when a large man, dark-haired and with a permanent half-scowl, interrupted his reverie.

"Oi, kid." The man eyed him with a critical but ultimately unthreatening gaze. "You're Lloyd? You're the one who's gonna help us out on the machinery?"

Lloyd stared for a minute.

"Are you deaf, boy?"

"You're the man on the radio," Lloyd said. "You're the operator!"

The man raised an eyebrow and his scowl deepened. "And you're the operative who wouldn't state his number." Lloyd nodded. The man's deep grimace softened, and he spied the first hints of a smile. "Well, I have to admit you did a good job fixing that hovercraft of ours. It's out of commission right now, but I can have you maintenance the others for the trip."

When the man sauntered across the garage, between vehicles, apparatuses and piles of junk, Lloyd fell in stride with him. "The trip?"

"We're going out into the desert. Yuan told you, did he not?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Well then, get to work." The man pointed to the dented side of a hovercraft similar to Lloyd's old one. Lloyd did not have to be told twice. He scooted under the vehicle like a mouse crawling back into its nest. Underneath its oil-soaked gears and pistons, breathing in its foul fumes, feeling the motor whirr and purr when he tried it out, he felt closer to home than he had in a long time.

When Lloyd returned to Yuan's office to take his meal, his hands were so caked in oil and grease Yuan made him wash them at the door. Lloyd figured he didn't want to stain his already ugly rug.

"It looks like Botta put you to work," he said.

"You know it." Lloyd wiped his forehead—he didn't know if his hands were clean enough to not leave a smear, but he didn't care. He had eaten with dirty hands often back home—so often that he was sure at least half of his caloric intake came from motor oil. "You guys have some really interesting machinery. I mean, besides the hovercrafts. There are these things in the corner of the garage that look like they have wings—"

"If you wish to join our cause, we certainly can use you as a mechanic." Yuan leaned over the table, folding his hands. "But that's a discussion for after you fulfill your primary tasks."

Lloyd's smile disappeared. "Yeah… what are my primary tasks?"

"They aren't too strenuous. We just need you as leverage, as I said before. We're going to try to get your father on our side. We need you to convince him."

Lloyd laughed. As if he could convince his father of anything. "Good luck with that. The last time I saw him he beat me to a pulp."

Yuan sighed. "That does not necessarily mean anything. He's always been… a poor communicator." Yuan's gaze lost focus, and he seemed to be falling deep into his own thoughts. "If you can't convince him, I will."

Lloyd did not like the way Yuan's mouth curled, as if he had just eaten something unpalatable. "What does that mean?" he asked.

Yuan's face fell, his scowl grew serious, even menacing. "It means that no matter what happens, you do as I tell you. No matter what happens, you just leave everything to me. You get it?"

"What—"

"_You get it_?"

Lloyd nodded, slowly. The look on Yuan's face unnerved him, and he wondered if he had just agreed to something incredibly rash. He gulped, appetite suddenly lost. He didn't know exactly what Yuan had in mind, and the half-elf seemed reluctant to reveal any plans he had. But he knew that in a few days, he would find out.


	21. Mirages

Lloyd hadn't asked to be caught up in all this. All he wanted was to walk through the gates of Triet, to wander the chaotic market, to play his oud and listen to Barra and his mother talk as the deep blue sky swallowed the last flare of sunlight. He wanted to put his feet in the oasis, wanted to feel the wind in his hair as he flew across the sands in his old hovercraft. He wanted to go home.

But when they finally let him leave the facility and escorted him out into the desert, they went in the wrong direction. When they pushed him onto a hovercraft and cranked it up to high speed, they flew across the sand to the east, toward the mountains rising in the distance. "Where are we going?" Lloyd yelled over the wind.

Yuan looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight sneer. Lloyd did not try asking again, he just retreated into his own thoughts, watching the dunes rise and fall like the waves of the sea as the craft glided between them. He almost felt sick to his stomach.

He wondered what was happening in Palmacosta. He knew, just _knew_ in his gut that his mother had gotten out safely. She was not so stupid as to hang around a crime scene after her only family had recently been accused. He held his head, thinking of Colette. Of course, they would have a funeral for her. The whole city—and people from all over Sylvarant, he was sure—would attend the burial of their Chosen One. Except for him. He would not get to be there.

_I don__'__t even want to be there_, he thought. _Colette__'__s not going to be there, anyway. She__'__s moved on already._ Lloyd thought of the hallucination he had back in the Palmacostan prison, when he thought he'd seen a pair of bright wings emerge from Yuan's back. He knew he had been dreaming, he had been beside himself with panic. But he couldn't help imagining Colette sprouting two of those alien, floral wings and ascending to the heavens, where she rightfully belonged. Lloyd knew it wasn't likely he'd end up in the same place—he would no doubt be cast into the flames reserved for cowards and killers. But he hoped someone down below might know how to read and write, so he could at least send her a letter.

When the hovercraft sputtered to a halt atop a shallow plateau, Lloyd perked up again, his train of thought lost. Yuan stepped off the craft, flinging the hems of his cloak to shake the sand off, and Lloyd descended behind him. This area did not seem particularly remarkable—perhaps they had simply stopped for lunch. Lloyd hoped so; his stomach was so desperate for something to do it seemed to have taken to gnawing at his other organs. As if in response to his thoughts, it let out a miserable groan, and he held his hand over his belly.

"Hey, Yuan," he started. "Are we gonna—"

"Shut up."

Lloyd forced his mouth shut, but his stomach went on complaining. Yuan lifted his face to the wind, closing his eyes as it blew across his features, through his hair. He lowered his head and his eyes snapped open again.

"He's coming. Everyone stay on guard. Lloyd, you're with me."

"Hey, don't you think I should have some sorta, you know, weapon?"

"Come here." Lloyd obeyed, and as Yuan extended his arms, Lloyd returned the gesture, hoping that he might receive something sharp to protect himself with, just in case. Instead, quicker than Lloyd could imagine, the half-elf snapped something on his wrists.

"What the hell, Yuan!" Lloyd stepped back, trying to wrestle his hands out of the cuffs.

"You might not understand it, Lloyd," Yuan replied, grabbing his collar and swinging him around to face the mountains, "but you are your own weapon. Don't waste that advantage."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Lloyd realized there was something sharp pressed to his back. It wasn't small enough to be a point, it wasn't straight enough to be the edge of a sword or knife, but he could tell through his thin shirt that it was sharp enough to slice through him if he made a wrong move. He bit his lip, and his tongue.

"Here he is." Yuan's breath was close in his ear. Lloyd squinted against the haze of the horizon, across the long arching crests of dunes, and he spied a solitary figure, shadow blurred, shape obscured by the rising heat. "Don't move, Lloyd."

He wasn't going to, not with that sharp thing pressed against his back. This was not what he'd had in mind when he'd agreed to help the Renegades, but at this moment, he found himself robbed of the temerity to tell Yuan that to his face. He merely grit his teeth and waited, heart tripping furiously over itself, pounding against his ribcage like it wanted to escape and find a safer host.

The figure kept walking toward them, painfully slowly. When he came close enough that Lloyd could make out his shape, his hands shook so hard his metal cuffs rattled.

"You're selling me out," he hissed, and in response, Yuan pressed the sharp blade deeper into his back. He felt cold metal on skin, and something wet dripped down the small of his back.

"Quiet," Yuan barked.

Lloyd's father stopped a few dozen paces from them, hand resting on his sword hilt, fingers glowing white in the high desert sun. Lloyd could not tear his eyes away from those hands, even as Yuan prodded him across the plateau. He stumbled toward his father, not daring to lift his gaze and catch a glimpse of those empty, ageless eyes. He didn't think his heart could grow any more frantic, but it beat so vehemently its tortured spasms nearly deafened him.

The organ in question seemed to cease functioning momentarily when Lloyd felt something blunt and heavy drive itself between his shoulders. He flew forward onto the sand, cuffed hands outstretched. He landed face-first and sat up slowly, mouth full of sand. When he pulled himself up to his knees, a large blade hovered next to his face, sharp and thick and shining magnificently. It looked so heavy he was sure one slight twitch of Yuan's hand would send his head flying across the sand. He gulped.

Somehow he had managed to get himself stuck between two madmen, each armed with blades and apparently both willing to use them on him. He wondered what his mother would say if she saw him now. He decided that when he found her again, he would tell her nothing of this. He didn't want her worrying about him, although, she did have an unsettling consistency when it came to knowing the unspoken truth. Maybe he was an open book when it came to his mother—he wondered if all sons were. He scolded himself for letting his attention wander back to her, when he should be focusing on the massive blade next to his face.

"Well met, Kratos," Yuan said, weapon twitching slightly with each syllable. Lloyd couldn't take his eyes off it, but didn't crane his neck, lest his movement prompt Yuan to tilt it to the left, just slightly, and slice him straight through. _How does he even hold that thing?_ Lloyd thought.

"I should've known what you were up to the moment you showed your sorry little face in Palmacosta," his father growled.

Yuan laughed. "Tell me, Kratos. What did our little Lord say when he got word of the Chosen's death? He was none too pleased, I take it." Yuan took a moment to revel in his adversary's almost tangible ire. "Especially since you abandoned your post on the word of a traitor."

Kratos' eyes wandered from Yuan to the huge blade, edge hovering next to Lloyd's jugular. "What are you doing with him, Yuan? Let him go. He's of no use to you."

"Keep telling yourself that," Yuan said, not without a hint of amusement. He moved the blade closer to Lloyd, the edge drawing a thin line of blood across his cheek. As Lloyd flinched, his father released a gasp, stepping toward him, hand outstretched. Yuan couldn't hold in his snigger. "Yes, keep telling yourself he doesn't matter to you. But as far as I can see, he's of plenty use to me."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want. Release the seal. There's no guarantee what will happen to your son if you don't."

Lloyd gulped, eyes darting from his father's hands, clenched at his sides, to the sky, to the large blade resting against his neck, reflecting the white sun along its length. How could he have gotten himself dug in so deep into this feud? He looked to the edge of the plateau, imagining how long it would take for him to sprint there, or if Yuan would get to him before he did…

"Better yet, work with me. If both of us work against him, he'll fall soon enough."

Lloyd wondered how fast Yuan would slice through his neck if he made a move. Maybe he wouldn't—he seemed to be more useful alive than dead. If he could just make a break for it while Yuan was distracted…

"I don't think you understand. You're not going to stop him. No one can. The best we can do is give him what he wants."

"You disappoint me, Kratos. I'm sorry we couldn't come to an agreement. But I suppose I should've expected as much from a man whose had his backbone excised by a child." Yuan raised his weapon. "Say goodbye to your son."

Lloyd shut his eyes, begging to live. He couldn't help but cry out, throwing his hands up over his head. He did not know what it would feel like to have a blade slice through his neck, but he didn't care. They would never find his body out in these endless sands, nobody would ever get to mourn him properly, his mother would be so angry with him—

But the blade never met its mark. Lloyd lowered his arms, daring to glance over them toward Yuan. He stood with his face lifted to the sky, holding his massive weapon still at his side.

"I see you've brought company," he muttered.

"It's over, Yuan. Let Lloyd go and I will not call down the wrath of Cruxis on you."

Yuan laughed. "You have nothing to threaten me with, Kratos. The only reason I'm not dead already is because Yggdrasill is a kitten who likes to toy with his prey before he kills it."

Lloyd could barely make out a few tiny lights descending from the white-blue sky. He didn't stick around to figure out what they were—he gathered himself, begged his heart to keep on beating, implored his lungs to not fail him, and ran.

He flew across the plateau, sand spraying from his flailing feet. He didn't look back, he didn't slow down. His heart seemed to burst open with each beat, his legs burned, his arms struggled to escape from their bonds. He kept his eyes glued to the thin edge of the plateau where the dark, compact sand faded into air. Everything slowed—he tracked, counted and assessed each footstep, each breath. Every movement distilled in his brain, burning itself into his panicked consciousness. He couldn't think of anything else, he just had to get to the end of that plateau.

He was almost surprised when he made it to the edge alive. He threw out one foot, stepping forward into empty air, the ground falling away from him. It wasn't too far a drop, but it seemed like he hovered in space for far too long, helpless, with no footing. It was like a dream—his body stilled, his muscles froze, he had no holds to push off from, and Yuan… If he truly had wings, he could fly to him and cut him in half before he even hit the ground again.

Miraculously, Lloyd's feet sank into the sand, and he began to sprint down the dune. His arms flailed, his tortured legs trying to steady him as he flew down the slope. He tried his best to regain balance without slowing down, but he was falling faster than his legs could follow. As his torso rapidly overtook his feet, he felt himself tumble into the sand. He drew his arms into his sides and let himself roll down the dune; once or twice he found himself again on his feet, only to have them swept out from under him by his own momentum. He knew if he could just get to his feet at the bottom of the dune, he could make a break for it. He could stand a chance, he could get back to Triet, he could get back to his life…

He felt himself slow, head spinning. As soon as he could, he struggled to his feet and started off toward what he could only guess was the west, back toward home. He threw one foot in front of the other the same way a drunkard might throw a punch, dizzily, clumsily. He stumbled across the trough of sand, head clearing. He sprinted toward the next dune, toward the vast blue above him, the white sands to the west—

Something struck his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Body still propelled by his frantic flight, he found himself flying forward, face-first, into the sand. He felt a foot turn him over, and he lifted his eyes, squinting at the bright sky and at the dark figure that blocked it. A halo of bluish light radiated from his back and slipped into bright wingtips, brighter than the sky. Lloyd couldn't look at him, the way his hair fell over his face, the way his shoulders blocked the sun…

Lloyd saw an image, deep in the tissue that constituted his oldest memories, of his father bending over him, shadow eclipsing the bright sky. The hands that reached out to him did not frighten him, and instead of flinching at the touch, he reached back out, grabbing his father's elbows as he slipped his hands under his armpits and lifted him from the dirt. He had been crying.

When Lloyd regained lucidity, he was standing, legs shaking, his father steadying him with his hands under his restrained arms. He opened his eyes, looked up at his father's face, and momentarily didn't recognize it. He struggled, tearing himself from his father's grip. He threw his foot out in desperation, and managed a solid kick to his stomach. When he turned to run, his father grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him back into his grip.

His father's hiss was harsh in his ear: "Lloyd, calm down."

Whatever demon had gripped Lloyd during his sleep in the Renegade base's cell rose up in his chest again, and his lungs emptied. He couldn't breathe, he was blind, he had no control over himself—he could only gasp, desperately: "Don't make me go back there—" He swung his elbow out, striking his father in the chest, the shoulder, but he couldn't squeeze his way out of the arms that held him. He started to feel his consciousness slowly wrung from him like water from a damp cloth.

Strong arms wrapped around him, squeezing him like so many bonds, threatening to crush him entirely. His father's gruff voice in his ear did not appease the tension that felt like it was ripping him apart, twisting his insides, destroying his lungs and heart. "I won't. I promise."

When he felt his sight slip away, he was sure that his father was killing him, sapping out his energy and crushing his bones. He went limp, eyes turning to the sky, watching the blue fade to grey, and apologized inwardly.

His mother would be furious.

* * *

Kratos did not know what to do. He stood in the trough of sand, clutching Lloyd to him, watching the cavalry of Cruxis descend from the sky, winged, bright, uninvited. Kratos had thought he'd come alone—evidently Mithos had a different idea.

It was to be expected, considering the recent fiasco. When he'd arrived back at Derris-Kharlan and knelt before Mithos, awaiting whatever news or orders that were so important he'd be summoned away from his duty to protect the Chosen, the boy just stared at him. He'd stared, before he exploded.

Gods, Kratos should've known. He should've been able to guess the reason Yuan was in Palmacosta. He should've been more careful, he should've covered his trail. He should never have followed them across the sea, dammit, he never should've sought them out in the first place. They would've been safe, happy, without him.

He looked down at his limp son, as the distant sound of a hovercraft echoed across the sands. _That__'__s right,_ he thought. _Run, Yuan. I will find you and I will destroy you for this._ There was nothing he could do now, not when the glowing soldiers of Cruxis dropped onto the sands, empty-eyed and fully armed.

"Sir," one said to him. It did not seem fazed or the least bit confused to find their commanding officer dangling a limp boy in his arms. "We have a party pursuing the hovercraft. Shall I relieve you of that… burden?"

"Not necessary," Kratos replied, awkwardly repositioning Lloyd in his arms. He wrapped one hand around the boy's shoulders and the other around the back of his knees, and pulled him off the ground. Lloyd hung in his arms so limply for a moment Kratos feared he was dead.

"You wish to dispose of him yourself?"

"Yes… That's what I'll do." If he could walk far enough away where they couldn't see him, he might be able to wake Lloyd up and send him on his way… no, they'd find him. They'd come after him. Maybe if he got him all the way back to Triet, to the safety of human company, then Cruxis might not find him… but Yuan no doubt would.

Cruxis, the Renegades… He always seemed to be crushed between two impassable walls and a dead end. If only time weren't linear, he could retrace his steps and avoid crawling into that damnable corridor to begin with. But here he was, dragging his son down into the depths with him, into the shadows of that place.

"Well done, Kratos." The voice wafted past him like miasma, and he turned, instinctively pulling Lloyd closer to him. "I didn't think you had it in you, to retrieve your own son for us. Evidently your loyalty has taken a turn for the better."

"Pronyma. Always a pleasure."

"Shall I take him up to Mithos, or do you wish to present him yourself?"

Kratos glanced down at his son's twitching eyelids. "I will do it."

"And I will make sure you do not run off with him."

"As you wish."

Kratos stepped forward into the air, mounting the emptiness like the first step in a stairwell—that is how he had envisioned this process since he first learned it so many years ago. He climbed on, through the air, up the white pillar of light that appeared before him, past the bonds of gravity and up into the cold glow of the stars.


	22. Recurrence

The heavy silence in the private room in the Welgaian infirmary seemed to overpower all sound. The only noise in the large chamber was a sleeping boy's light snores and intermittent mutterings. Everything was lit white by distant starlight; large, curved windows offered a wide view of the glowing geometry of Vinheim and the cosmos beyond. Kratos knew Mithos watched—he didn't have to go to the trouble of ordering Lloyd to be kept in the very shadow of the castle. Long ago, Kratos himself had been confined here for weeks following the attack on his family. Kratos sat now where Mithos had sat then, hovering over him, recounting his sins. Kratos glanced down to his son's sleeping face, and wondered what he could possibly say when the boy awoke.

Lloyd groaned, his eyebrows furrowing, eyelids fluttering. He turned his head to its side, muttering. He seemed about ready to wake up, so Kratos leaned over and wove another sleeping spell over him. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Each time he drew out the rune on Lloyd's sweating forehead, its potency decreased. A human can only absorb artificial sleep magic for so many hours before his body realizes what's going on.

Kratos wondered what he would tell him when he woke up. He composed and refined hours of monologues in his head, tweaking the tone and semantics, rewriting passages, including mountains of information, then cutting them out, then reintegrating them. He considered telling Lloyd everything, straight from the beginning: all the way back to the War, the advent of the Tree, the very first contact between Derris-Kharlan and the once unified world. Kratos did not want to bore his son with histories that extended back to the very invention of history itself, so he considered not telling Lloyd anything at all.

He thought he should focus on his excuses. He should tell Lloyd that he'd done what he'd done because he could do nothing else. That he wanted to carry Lloyd somewhere safe, that he didn't think they would follow him that deep into the desert, into enemy territory. But Cruxis was equal parts unchallengeable power and tremendous audacity—he himself had helped build it up to that point. He should've known, and he should've taken more precautions.

He decided when Lloyd awoke, he would start with an apology. From there, it was difficult to tell where he would go.

Pronyma saved him from his thoughts. He sensed her in the doorway before she even spoke. "It's a shame about Yuan. Although, I can't say I didn't see that betrayal coming."

Kratos didn't answer. Yuan's shady sneaking and possible defection were common suspicions, if not common knowledge, among the members of Cruxis. Why Mithos had not outed him and killed him already was the bigger mystery. Maybe he was right when he said Mithos merely liked to toy with his prey before killing it.

Pronyma moved to hover by Lloyd's bedside, silent, and the air seemed to chill around her. "He looks well."

"He's… not." Kratos knew he could not lie to her, but he tried anyway. His words dissipated feebly in the air, and Pronyma seemed not to notice them.

"We're going to resume the project as soon as he wakes up. I would advise you not to get involved. It will only cause you pain." She took a step closer, and Kratos stood. "Lord Yggdrasill cares for you, you know. He doesn't want to see you upset."

"Yet he does not have the solicitude to visit me himself." He paused, looking Pronyma over. Of course there was a reason he would send her in his place. "You may tell him that I will not allow Lloyd to go back to a human ranch."

"What, you suggest that we complete the Angelus Project here in Welgaia?" Pronyma cupped her chin. "I suppose that's possible, under my supervision. But we will have to drag Kvar away from his ranch every so often to oversee our techniques. And you know how he gets when you tear him away from his true passion." Pronyma laughed, but when she saw Kratos did not follow suit, she quieted herself.

Kratos could tell by the way her old, cruel eyes glinted in the starlight that she had not told him the whole story. "What are you really here to say?" he demanded. "It's best you divulge now, before I lose my patience with you."

"Perceptive as usual, Kratos." She smiled, crossing her arms. "We are trying our best not to be unnecessarily cruel. You should know this by now, since you're one of us, through and through, whether you deny it or not."

Kratos shot her a violent look, hurrying her on.

"We know your wife is still out there somewhere. We don't know where, but he might." She nodded to Lloyd, and Kratos clenched his fists, dismayed by the new direction of the conversation. "Lord Yggdrasill, in his infinite mercy, has decided to give you a choice: either we can implant an exsphere on your son and hope for similar results, or you retrieve your wife and we repeat it on her."

Whatever look that crossed Kratos' face seemed to make her smile. "You can't possibly expect me to—"

"If I recall correctly, you already made that exact choice once. And you chose him over her, when it came down to it." Her eyes darted from him to Lloyd and back to him. "You already cut her down once. This time it'll be easier. It will be more humane."

It took all of Kratos' strength to keep his twitching hand from drawing his sword and slicing her in half.

"Another thing to consider is the possibility of the Project's failure. There is less of a guarantee that it will work on him than that it will work on her. And if he fails us, we'll just have to repeat the experiment again, either by retrieving your wife and implanting it on her, or culling all that human cattle once again."

Eventually his eager hand stilled, and he managed to take a breath. "How on earth do you propose I find her?"

"You have the best bait I can think of," Pronyma answered, shrugging toward Lloyd.

He couldn't help but turn his eyes back on his son. He said nothing. His stomach turned of its own accord, and a sharp pain tore through his lungs.

"Remember, Kratos, if it's not her, it will be him. It will be such a shame to waste a boy not yet in his prime." She paused, and when Kratos did not offer a decision, she stepped toward him. "Keep in mind, however, should you acquiesce, we will be watching you closely. We will have agents follow you everywhere you go. If you even think about running off with him, just remember that it will end exactly as it did last time." She smiled. "Losing a family once would be enough for any man, I should think. Twice, I can't imagine." She slipped across the room and floated out the door as silently as she had come in.

Kratos resumed his vigil. He didn't know how much time he spent sitting at his son's side—the movements of sun and moon were impossible to observe from this particular part of Derris-Khlarlan. Minutes blended to hours, perhaps to days, and still, Kratos sat by his side, coaxing him back into sleep when he stirred too often.

He left only when the medical staff commanded him to, but he never found the strength to wander up to Vinheim and speak with Mithos. He'd rather keep the boy out of his mind when he already had one here to worry about.

Perhaps misled by Lloyd's consistent soporific state, the medical team decided to draw his blood sooner than later. Apparently, when they shooed Kratos out of the room and set up their equipment, Lloyd had woken up. Kratos had not told anyone about his liberal use of sleeping spells, so maybe they had assumed that Lloyd had suffered some head trauma or was otherwise semipermanently incapacitated.

Kratos heard the struggle from the hall. He walked past the door, saw it cracked open, so he leaned against it, peering inside. He spied four men, all struggling to hold Lloyd down to merely take a sample. His son screamed and struggled, threw a few decent punches, but eventually found himself in a headlock, one needle in right arm, sucking blood, another in his left, pumping in some sort of narcotic. Kratos figured it would probably work better than his old-fashioned spells anyway.

When Lloyd went limp, still cursing, they dropped him on the floor and bent over him. They scraped some skin from his cheek, drew a few more blood samples, pulled some hairs. Kratos wondered if this excessive preparation was an order from Kvar. He'd expected the Cardinal to slither up to Welgaia the moment he got word of Lloyd's capture, but perhaps he was bogged down preparing his ranch to receive the new Angelus Project subject.

Kratos took a deep breath, forcing Kvar out of his thoughts, and entered the room.

"Is everything in order here?" he asked.

The medical staff, evidently satisfied with whatever they had extracted from the unconscious boy, answered in the affirmative. When they collected their various vials and syringes and plastic tubes, they bowed deeply to Kratos and left. Lloyd still lay on the floor, bleeding slightly from one arm.

Of course they would not think to put him back on the bed. It was an inessential action, a waste of time for them. He bent down to pick up his sleeping son and carried him back to the bed. He lay him on his back, stretched out his arms, and rested his fingers on the red puncture wound that glinted slightly on his arm. He healed the bruises he could sense taking form under the skin, and threw the blanket over him.

Because the medical team already got what they needed, they would not return to his room for a while. Should he attempt to escape, he would have a straight shot from his room in the infirmary to the thoroughfare outside, and from there he'd have to navigate the back streets to the portal down to the base of the Tower. Any time to make a break for it was adequate, but Kratos considered this might be the most opportune moment.

He walked back to the entrance to the room, glanced both ways, and closed the door. He then returned to his son's bedside and waited.

* * *

Lloyd's eyes shot open, his muggy brain trying to crank through recent events. Everything stored in his head was just a blur, a suggestion, painfully unclear and impossible to interpret. He tried to open his mouth to ask whoever might be listening where he was, but he couldn't. He looked up, vision clearing, and saw the pale face of his father, backlit by weak, white light.

He had one hand over Lloyd's mouth, one hovering by own, a finger stretched up to his lips to signal silence. Lloyd was briefly brought back to the sleeping chamber in Forcystus' ranch, when his mother had left him drawn instructions for escape. Perhaps his father was about to do him the same sort of favor.

Lloyd nodded briskly, but Kratos didn't remove his hand. "You must be quiet, Lloyd. I'm getting you out of here."

Lloyd wasn't sure if he should trust this man, who had toyed with him mercilessly for these past few months. He wasn't sure if he could force himself to obey the man who had destroyed his family, who had hurt his mother. But he had saved him from Yuan, he had at least promised he wouldn't take Lloyd back to the ranch.

And he hadn't. Lloyd did not know where he was, but he was perfectly aware it was not a human ranch. The eerie silence, the distressing proximity of the stars, the fact that he had woken up in something of a real bedroom all told him that he was not in any Desian facility. He was no doubt in a mysterious and hostile place, but it didn't resemble a human ranch in the slightest. Even the guards that had come by to draw his blood had not been wearing Desian uniforms.

When his father withdrew his hand, he kept his mouth shut. He still felt dizzy, groggy, but his father pulled him out of the bed and dragged him across the room.

"Where are we going?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos narrowed his eyes. "Back down to Sylvarant."

"Huh? Back down?" Lloyd wondered if he was still asleep.

"Please, Lloyd. You have to be quiet."

He nodded. When his father let go of his wrist, he followed in his sleek shadow. As he tried his best to emulate Kratos' silent footsteps across the hall and down a flight of stairs, he started to wonder if following an estranged parent out of a prison-like facility would be a recurring theme in his life.

When they exited the building, Lloyd could barely stop himself from glancing up to the tips of the impossibly tall buildings and the blanket of stars beyond. His father had to grasp his arm and practically drag him down what he could only assume were streets in a massive, silent city. The whole place glowed a bright white, long streaks of fluorescent blue lighting the empty roads. Somewhere in his still-hazy mind, Lloyd wished he'd only brought his toolbox. He would have a field day with whatever technology this was.

The city's silence intrigued and disturbed him. Their trip was made too easy by the eerie solitude. Lloyd heard none of the usual sounds of inhabited places—there was no bustling of people, no operations of Desians, nothing. Not even the heart of the empty desert was this silent.

"Where the hell are we?" he whispered. His voice rang through the streets like the old Palmacostan church bells, seemingly across the entire city. He shut his mouth, shivering at the unexpected loudness of his own whisper.

His father looked sternly back at him, but didn't answer. He just led Lloyd along the streets, down the widest thoroughfares and tiniest alleys, all devoid of life and sound. When they turned a corner and spied a lone figure at the end of the street, his father put a finger to his lips. The figure simply stood, uninterested in them, facing the wall, unmoving. A pair of soft white wings protruded from his back.

Lloyd looked at his father, wide-eyed, but he did not seem fazed to be in the presence of what seemed to be a living—but somehow dysfunctional—heavenly messenger. He simply led Lloyd the opposite way, emphasizing the necessity of quietness. He turned a corner and slid down a metal slope to an isolated square, empty except for a blue pillar of light at its center.

He shoved Lloyd toward it, and he didn't know what else to do but obey. He surely couldn't escape his father in this strange city, with no help around, with no sense of direction. He forced himself to step into the light, and suddenly felt his weight fall away from him. The ground disappeared under his feet, and the white glow swallowed him whole. He was sure he had died somehow, that he was making his way downward through the echelons of the Martellian afterlife, all the way toward the fire that no doubt awaited him.

He didn't have time to panic about his fate, since nearly a second after he had entered the strange light, he emerged into bright blue daylight. It was most certainly not the hellfire that more than one priest passing through Triet insisted awaited him after his death. He stumbled from the blue-white light and tripped over a tuft of grass his feet.

He focused on the grass as he fell forward onto his face. He marveled at it, reached out to it, wanted to make sure it was real, and that he was really outside, really free. When he landed in the soft dirt, he reveled in the fact that it was not the metal floor of a ranch, it wasn't the gaudy rug of Yuan's base, it was not the strange blue glow of his most recent place of captivity, it was not the cold stone of his cell in Palmacosta.

He knew that if he wanted to escape his father, it was now or never. There were no chains around his wrists, no walls holding him in. There was just the expanse of blue sky and the rolling fields beneath it. He quickly glanced behind him, and saw no evidence of the strange portal, nor his father. He took a deep breath, trying to coax his limbs back to life, and made a break for it.

He did not get far. He only managed to run a few paces before a strong hand jerked at the back of his collar, forcing him to a painful and breathless halt. His feet continued to run but his torso stayed put, and he fell hard on his back, ground knocking the wind from him.

His father leaned over, looking down at him, curious frown appearing on his face. Behind him, the impossible length of the Tower of Salvation shot deep into the sky. Lloyd had never been so close to it, and wondered why on earth he should appear here, at the very foot of the building that foretold the downfall of the Desians, rather than somewhere more appropriate to his station. With a skip of his heart, he wondered if he had just come from that tower, that if at the top stood that awful, eerie city.

His father reached down and pulled him from the dirt. "Are you all right?"

He didn't answer. He just let Kratos haul him off the ground, and brushed off his pants. He looked up at his father, at his concerned frown, and those weird, old eyes. They shone with a light that he found oddly comforting. The urge to run settled down in him, and he decided he would at least stand with his father for a moment, thank him before he snuck off into the wilderness in search of his mother. But no words immediately came to him. He wasn't sure if he should really thank his father, or simply kick him and try to make a break for it again. Considering Kratos' history of toying with him, he wasn't sure if he was actually free at this point. But the grass at his feet still swayed in the wind, and the fresh air swept through his hair like it always had, back when he was living a normal life with his mother. No doubt about it, Lloyd was no longer in that terrible, silent city. He certainly wasn't in a human ranch. It seemed he was free; and if it was all a trick, it was a pretty good one.

Kratos seemed to sense his insurmountable confusion and eagerness to flee. "Lloyd. Don't run off. If you do, they'll find you and drag you back. You have to stay with me if you don't want to end up in the ranch again."

"How in the world can I trust you?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos glanced down, as if the dirt might hold the answers for him. "I don't know, Lloyd. You're just going to have to try."

Lloyd put his hands in his pockets. "I guess you did get me out of there…" _But maybe in a couple years you__'__ll put me back, just like you did when I was a little kid._ He couldn't hold it in. "Why? Why the hell would you break me out of there? Where was 'there' anyway?"

Kratos sighed. "There are a lot of explanations I owe you. In time, they'll come. But for now, we have to get moving, before they come after us."

_Just like my mother_, he thought. _All rush, no explanation_. He supposed if they had that at least in common, he would survive following his father for a little while. So they made their way down the path, away from the Tower, toward the glowing red mountains that rose in the distance. He decided that, for now, he would trust this odd man leading him away from danger, away from his captors. It wasn't as if he had a choice.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos didn't turn when he answered. "We're going to find your mother."


	23. The Search Begins

Lloyd spent hours inside his own head, wrestling with the implications of his recent reunion with his father. He wanted to tell Kratos that there was no way his mother would emerge from wherever she was hiding if he were around. He was the last person she would trust, and with good reason… which left Lloyd questioning his own decision to follow the man down the sloping mountains to the grassy plains that spread out below the Tower like some waving, green quilt.

His father never spoke, so it was almost like being alone. He could pretend like he was home, going for a long trek through the desert, with nothing but his own thoughts for company. It was odd, though, since with his father's overwhelming presence hovering just a few feet away, he found it impossible to truly delve into himself and achieve the mindless, meditative state that had come to him so easily whenever he was alone in the desert. His mother had mentioned how Kratos' presence seemed forceful, and he'd never known what she'd meant until now. He found it hard to think too much about anything, since he had an uncomfortable feeling that his father was there, in his mind with him, listening carefully.

He just kept his eyes on the man's back and followed him down the gentle hills, through the waves of grass, nodded when he turned and muttered snippets of info that Lloyd may have found useful when his brain wasn't so scrambled: "We're going to stay off the main road." "To the west is Hima." "That bird over there is a red-backed warbler."

Lloyd was so tired he barely registered this information. He merely followed his father, monitoring his thoughts so that Kratos would not know the plans and thoughts unfolding in his head. He conceived a feeble escape strategy, should it prove necessary. He sorted through his lists of reasons to both trust and distrust his father. Lloyd did not have any weapons on him, so he tried to think of ways he might incapacitate Kratos, if he needed to. Whenever he found himself wandering into too much detail, he forced his thoughts back to the benign, just in case his father was eavesdropping inside his head.

He didn't know why he was so afraid that his dad was mind-reader. It must've been paranoia brought on by exhaustion. He wondered if his brain was slowly unraveling itself inside his skull, like a fraying ribbon.

He realized his father had been talking to him. "Huh?"

"I asked if you needed a rest. You seem like you do."

Lloyd looked over at Kratos. He stood tall, seemingly untroubled by the miles they had traversed over the course of the day. Lloyd knew his own eyes were red and heavy with weariness, but Kratos seemed alert as ever, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The sun sank rapidly behind the crests of mountaintops, lighting the whole valley a pale pink.

"No, I'm fine," Lloyd said. "Let's keep going. They're gonna follow us, right? So we should get going."

"All right. But tell me if you need to take a break."

_I won__'__t until you do,_ Lloyd said silently. He hunched over for a moment to catch his breath, then continued walking, occasionally glancing up at the stars as the sky went dark and the first few croaks of frogs signaled the animals' nighttime overture.

Lloyd walked on. Soon he was so tired he could not lift his head. He stared at the path, watching the shadows of rocks, until it all blurred in the darkness. Before him stretched a grey smear of dirt, a path that he could not distinguish as real or a dream. He drew his foot forward, and the air around it turned to syrup—when he lay it on the grey haze he fell straight through, and tumbled down into a sharp, narrow chute of black, flanked on either side by pillars of starry night.

"Ow, shit!" He lifted his head, a sharp pain pulsing its way through his brow. His father knelt in front of him, pulling him out of the dirt. Something warm dripped into his eye.

"You fell face-first, Lloyd. You need to rest."

"No, I'm fine. We have to find her."

Kratos sighed, wiping the tiny rivulet of blood off Lloyd's forehead with a bare hand. "You need to sleep. Just for a little while, at least. I'll keep watch until sun-up."

Lloyd opened his mouth to protest but his father simply pulled him off the road and led him to a knoll some ways away from the path, soft with fresh grass. He pushed Lloyd onto it, gently, and stood up, turning his gaze back to the road.

Lloyd tried his best to keep his eyes from closing. He knew his father might slit his throat while he slept—he might wake up to a pack of Desians carrying him back to the ranch. He might wake up and Yuan would be there, hovering over him with that massive blade…

Or Kvar…

Lloyd blinked, once, quickly. When his eyes opened again, hot, intense sunlight pummeled his face. He raised a hand over his eyes and sat up. Gods, his head hurt.

He found his father exactly where he had been the night before, standing at the base of the grassy knoll and watching the road. "We should go," was all he said.

Lloyd stretched, feeling some semblance of life return to his body. He twisted his arms, his back, and leaned down to touch his toes. The strange, silence-inducing shock that had taken him over during the first day back on the ground had somehow worn off during his sleep, and when he again followed his father to the road, he decided to ask the question that had been bothering him.

"You don't sleep, do you?"

Kratos sighed. "No."

"Why not?" Lloyd stepped around a large rock blocking the road. He waited for his father to answer, but no reply came. He guessed he'd have to steer the conversation himself. "You're like Yuan, aren't you? I've seen your wings."

"Yes… Yuan and I are similar, in some ways."

"When I saw his, I thought it was just a dream. A hallucination." Lloyd looked up to the sky for a minute, gathering his words. "But you can't be angels. Angels are supposed to be kind, and holy, and help people."

Even staring just at the back of Kratos' head, Lloyd could guess the kind of look that must've crossed his face. "It's… complicated, Lloyd. There are no angels in the sense you've been taught. There are only angels like Yuan and me. And that man we saw in Welgaia. You remember him?"

Welgaia. Lloyd had never heard the name, but he figured that must've been the strange city with technology even beyond Desian reckoning. "Yeah. I remember him."

"He's… of a different form. He's mindless, he's soulless. He isn't alive."

"Well, of course angels aren't _alive_." Lloyd knew next to nothing about Martellian mythology, but he knew that. Everyone did. That's what loved ones became after they died, if they were worthy. That's what Colette had become for sure. "So… you're not dead, are you?"

"No. Like I said, Lloyd. It's complicated. You'd best drop the subject."

Lloyd didn't appreciate being shut down so easily. He knew that his father couldn't have been a real angel, not after what he put him and his mother through. He wondered if there were evil angels, ones that served the lords of darkness and hellfire. "You've gotta be some sorta djinn, then."

"What?"

Lloyd became more sure of it every second. That's why his mother was constantly delving into those old tomes on mythology, Martellian or otherwise. She must've been looking for some sort of protection spell, something that would ward off a malevolent djinn, or whatever his father was. He wondered if his father was as old as Efreet himself, and had fallen away from the firelight of his graces, condemned to wander the world in mortal human form.

Holy gods, that would make Lloyd half djinn. He was almost eighteen—he must be growing into his supernatural powers about now.

"Yeah, you must be. What, you got kicked out of the spirit world 'cause of some human, probably. That's why you joined the Desians, to get back at all of us."

Kratos sighed. "No, Lloyd. Look…"

"How old are you, anyway?"

His father made a face as if Lloyd had stomped on his foot. "A little older than you'd guess."

Lloyd clenched his teeth, looking over his father's youthful features, his unnerving, ageless eyes, and couldn't come up with an estimate. Kratos seemed to defy age, and although Lloyd was the first of his mother's fawners to claim she looked decades younger than she was, at least she somewhat resembled a normally maturing human being. With his father, it was like shooting in the dark. He honestly couldn't say.

At Lloyd's thoughtful silence, Kratos stopped and pointed down the road, to a wide fork. "Just to the west of there is an inn. We can rest."

Lloyd nodded. He didn't want to risk collapsing in front of his father again, and his hungry stomach twisted and gargled over itself like an angry wave.

They got to the inn a few hours before the sun was due to set, but Kratos insisted they would stay there for the night. There had been no sign of any agents of Cruxis, so it seemed like they had managed to slip from their fingers for the time being. They both sat down at one of the few rustic wooden tables dotting the inn's downstairs and Kratos requested a plate of food be brought for him. He only asked for one.

Lloyd didn't notice when the food arrived. He was staring out the window, where on the wooden balustrade up the front steps, a nondescript brown sparrow chirped. It looked different than the kind that made their nests in the Palmacostan public parks, occasionally wandering down to the cafes to pick at neglected leftovers. He always did like their company.

He wondered where it was going, where it had come from, and why it had chosen this particular handrail as a temporary perch. He was sure there was some sort of method to its seemingly erratic hops, the quick, all-or-nothing turns of its tiny head. He did not tear his eyes from it until it fluttered away, beyond the visible frame of the window.

Lloyd wondered if he would have to ready himself for a life of rapid comings-and-goings. He didn't want to condemn himself years of nothing but fearful flight, but he couldn't stop himself from entertaining the thought. Surely, there were places he and his mother could go where no one would find them. Lloyd would not mind living somewhere remote, as long as Barra could come with them.

Oh, gods. Barra. Lloyd was sure Kratos would not suffer the man's presence. But that was fine, since he had not even considered the possibility that his real father would come into hiding with them.

"Hey…" He could not bring himself to say "dad." He certainly did not dare use the old Trieti word, which he had on reserve for Barra. "Hey, Kratos."

Kratos looked up. Apparently he had been staring as intently into his mug of beer as Lloyd and been staring out the window. "Yes?"

"What will you do when we find her?"

"I don't know. Find somewhere safe, to begin with."

Lloyd crossed his arms over the table, plate untouched. "I think after we find her again, you should probably leave us alone."

Kratos took a careful sip of the foam bubbling over the rim of his mug. "Yes. I think that would be for the best."

Lloyd hadn't expected his father to give up so easily. The man had followed them across the desert, across the sea, and now up to the city of angels and back. And they still had a whole continent to search. Lloyd doubted his father would chase his wife for so long and across so many miles only to hand Lloyd over to her and disappear.

"You're not going to follow us, you know, like last time?"

"I will make sure you are safe. I will find a place for you, and then I'll go."

Lloyd desperately wanted to boldly say he didn't believe him. But he had chosen to trust this man. He would use him to get information in Palmacosta about where his mother went, since if Lloyd showed his face there again it would no doubt find itself across a chopping block. No, he had to keep Kratos around if he wanted to find his mother. "So, you're just going to let us be and shove off? Just like that?"

"If I can be sure you're out of harm's way, then yes."

Lloyd plucked a carrot from his plate, unwilling to take his eyes off his father, and chewed it carefully. "She's not going to come back to us, not with you here."

"I know. When we get back to Palmacosta I'll hide myself."

Lloyd sighed. "She's not there. You're going to have to go get some info on her for me. I'm not going back in there."

"What's stopping you?" His father took a swig.

Perhaps he had been misinformed, or simply remained ignorant of how Lloyd ended up in Yuan's hands. "You never got the message, did you?" he asked.

Kratos went white. "No. I take it Anna sent one to me?"

"Yeah. Yuan intercepted it—at least that's what he told me."

"Insolent bastard," his father muttered.

Lloyd thought about where he should start with this particular story. "You know… the Chosen was killed, right?"

"Of course."

"Well I managed to get stuck in jail for it. They were gonna chop off my head. Or hang me. I wasn't sure, the governor-general wasn't very clear. But before they got a chance to kill me Yuan showed up. And… you know the rest, I guess."

"So… of course Anna wouldn't linger in the city if anyone found out her son had been the one charged with killing the Chosen."

Lloyd looked down at his plate, silent.

Kratos put down his mug and stared at him for a few uncomfortably long seconds. "I know she was your friend. I'm sorry, Lloyd. I really am."

Lloyd shook his head and picked at his food. He didn't really want to ask how his father knew he and the Chosen had any sort of relationship, but he could take a guess. "You… you know all about the Chosen, don't you?"

Kratos looked to his left, then his right, as if to make sure none of the wrong people might be listening. "The Chosen's journey of Regeneration is planned and conducted by Cruxis."

"Yuan said something like that, too. That Cruxis was behind the Regeneration. "

Kratos nodded slowly. "I was tasked with watching over the Chosen, at least until she started her journey. It was lucky for me that you and your mother happened to be in Palmacosta, too. So then I could protect all of you."

Lloyd couldn't swallow the sardonic laugh that tripped its way up his throat. "Some protector you've been."

Kratos conceded, and his face fell. "I failed on all fronts. She died, you were abducted—the only reason your mother isn't in a dire situation is because she has a remarkable talent for taking care of herself."

"Yeah. I half expected her to break me out of jail instead of Yuan. It wouldn't be the first time she busted me out of some prison."

His father seemed to chew on that statement for a moment. "You were kept in a ranch, weren't you?"

"You didn't know?"

Kratos shook his head. "I want to know how you managed to escape."

Lloyd's heart suddenly tensed, and he dropped his fork. "Why? So you can prevent other people from escaping?"

Kratos let Lloyd have the last word on that subject. He lowered his eyes and remained silent. Lloyd reassessed his decision to trust the man, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice.

"Why weren't you there?" he asked. "If you wanted to protect everybody, why weren't you there when Colette died? Why didn't you save her?" Lloyd couldn't stop his voice from quavering.

"Because Yuan deceived me into leaving."

"You think he was involved in murdering the Chosen?"

"I have little doubt."

Lloyd couldn't help but grimace. "Yuan tricked me, too. He made it sound like he was on my side. I trusted him and he tried to kill me."

Kratos stared at his empty mug. "Maybe you shouldn't trust people so easily, Lloyd."

"I tell myself that a lot. But…" he hesitated, collecting his thoughts. "I don't really think I could live being suspicious of everyone all the time. Blind trust is the only reason I got out of the ranch. I could've turned in _el__á_ so many times, I could've let the guards know what she was planning. I almost _did_. I didn't know who this lady was, I thought she was kinda crazy. I knew that if I turned her in I'd get rewarded. But I didn't. I trusted her, and she got me out. I trusted her when she dragged me out of Triet and across the ocean. It was hard to make myself believe her when she said you'd come after us, especially after the wounds I gave you, but I did. And she was right."

"She's… usually right," Kratos conceded.

"So then, is she right when she says I can't trust you? When she calls you a traitor and a monster?"

Kratos almost flinched. "She calls me those things?"

Lloyd nodded. "Is she wrong this time?"

"I hope so."

"Well… I trusted you, and here I am. You got me back to solid ground, and you're gonna help me find her." Lloyd figured he might as well append that confession with some sort of threat, but he could not think of a viable one. He couldn't run from Kratos, he couldn't fight Kratos. If he had his mother's cunning he might be able to trick him, but he had his doubts. He was never as sly as she had been.

He started to miss her, uncontrollably. They hadn't been apart this long since they had escaped the ranch.

"Are you finished?"

Lloyd glanced up, wrestled abruptly from his thoughts, and saw a dark-haired girl pointing to his plate. "Yeah," he answered, and she bent down to take it.

"You want anything else?" Kratos asked.

Lloyd thought for a moment. "No. Right now, I think I just wanna go to bed."

* * *

When Lloyd awoke in the middle of the night, he found his father in a chair on the other side of the room, staring out the window. Somehow, in that pale light, he looked old, but not in a tangible, natural way. His age seemed to be a product of something deeper than physicality.

When he heard Lloyd stir, he raised his gaze to him. "Are you all right?" he asked. The concerned frown he put on seemed almost honest.

"What time is it?" Lloyd asked.

"About four."

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. "What direction are we going tomorrow—today?"

"Due south. We'll catch a boat across the inlet, cross the hills on the other side, and end up by the House of Salvation. We can ask anyone if they've seen Anna."

Lloyd wondered how rare a lone one-armed woman was in this part of the world. He figured not very. Someone would probably remember her if they'd seen her pass—including any Desians in the area. Lloyd glanced past the foot of the bed to the pale outline of his father's arm, glowing almost softly in the dim light that sank through the window. He followed the trace of muscle all the way down to his hand, which was adorned with a dark exsphere.

"How can you wear one of those?" Lloyd asked. "Knowing where they come from."

"There are… a lot of moral compromises one must make in life, Lloyd. Some are difficult, others are not."

"You didn't answer the question."

Kratos sighed. "Someone died to make this. If I don't put it to use, then that person would've died in vain." Kratos looked up at Lloyd, narrowing his eyes. "And where is yours? Where is the one your mother made? If you don't want her suffering to have been in vain, you should be wearing it."

Lloyd grit his teeth. No way was he going to let his father seize the moral high ground. "I _would _be wearing it, if your buddy Yuan hadn't gotten Colette killed. It's a little hard to bring weapons into prison, Kratos. Exspheres especially."

"Where is it, then?"

"I don't know," Lloyd lied. His father could do without knowing. And Lloyd could do without wearing the thing. It felt cannibalistic to him.

"You _lost_ it?" Lloyd did not know such a combination of rage and disappointment could cross a person's face.

"No. I bet _el__á _has it. She wouldn't have left Palmacosta without it."

Kratos turned again to the window, at least partially pacified. Lloyd found himself satisfied with his lie as well—in fact, it seemed so reasonable to him he wasn't sure if it was a lie at all.

Why should she leave her exsphere? She could use it—it was hers to begin with. He imagined she might not have had time to fetch it during the panic caused by the perceived Desian raid, but then it would still be safe, hidden under the floorboards of their tiny apartment.

He considered retrieving it after he found his mother again. But what good would it do him then? If Kratos spoke the truth, he would leave them alone, and Cruxis would leave them alone. Lloyd would live somewhere so far away from Desians and other people that he would have no use for it. But his mother… gods knew what she thought of the little blue rock. She probably never wanted to see it again, after what it did to her.

"Hey…" Lloyd started after a few minutes of silence, and Kratos tore his eyes from the night sky to settle on him instead. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why'd you cut off her arm?"

The pause that hung between them lasted an age. Lloyd's whole being ached as it dragged on, curtailed only by Kratos' morose sigh. "I thought it would save her."

"How could that save anyone?"

"Your mother… by the time you were about three, the exsphere she carried had already completed its natural growth. If she'd been at the ranch, they would have removed it long before that point, to prevent…"

Lloyd waited for a moment before urging him on. "What?"

"Exspheres are fickle things, Lloyd. I don't know if you've ever seen it but… sometimes, when they complete their growth cycle, they can overwhelm their hosts. I'd given her a key crest, but at that point it was merely a hollow gesture. We couldn't remove it, its mana had already spread to her tissue. It was only a matter of time."

"What happened?"

"She… she lost her mind. She became something that wasn't Anna. She ceased to be the woman I loved, ceased to be your mother. She had become something inhuman. She was dangerous, she was mindless. She tried to kill you. I had a choice to either let you die or attack her. And I didn't have the courage to finish her off. I tried separating her from the exsphere, hoping that it would save her."

Lloyd tried to imagine his mother trying to kill him. He tried to imagine her as anything other than the gracious, loving, clever human being that she was, and he failed. There was no Anna without her intellect, her gentle sternness, her humor. There was no monster in there.

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos cupped his chin. "No. Not really."

"Good. Because I don't."

"You don't have to. It won't fix what I did. I can't change the past." He resumed staring out the window. "Neither can you, Lloyd. Remember that."

Lloyd pulled the sheets over his head so he would not have to look at his father. He did not want to face the possibility that he was right—Lloyd had heard the stories at the ranch, about what happened when an exsphere was removed improperly. His mother, though… she did not exist in that state, in his imagination or in the real world. It was just too far-fetched.

Lloyd realized his cowardly father had just been trying to save face—give a justifiable reason for mutilating his wife. He wondered if his father would do the same to him; cut off an arm or a leg, poke out his eyes, cut out his tongue, before handing him back to the Desians for experimentation.

Somehow Kratos didn't strike him as the mindlessly sadistic type. But he had a history of deception—it could be that he was just an excellent actor, like Anna.

Lloyd couldn't sleep. He tried lying on his side, then his back, nestled on his stomach, kept turning his head this way and that, sighing. He tried to banish the sound of his father's voice from his inner ear, but he couldn't. He kept recounting that strange, dubious tale, over and over in his head, until he realized his father had moved from the window.

"Leave me alone," Lloyd said to the shadow that now stood by his bedside.

"Do you need anything?"

"No. Go away."

The figure of his father creaked across the room and slipped out the door in eerie silence. Lloyd curled himself back up, and thought of his mother holding him under the covered wagon so many years ago, when they had first escaped the ranch. He recited her song to himself, whispering into the pillow, and closed his eyes.

_When I find you, you can tell me the whole story. You__'__ll remember the parts you__'__ve forgotten. _

He fell asleep only a few minutes after his father left him alone.


	24. Winding Paths and Quiet Rooms

Lloyd could smell the ugly swell of the ocean before he could see it. The wet saltiness of the air filled his nostrils and made its way down to the back of his tongue, where it lingered despite his best efforts. He licked his lips and drank from the flagon, requested a few crackers, but nothing could adequately banish the scent and taste of the black ocean. It was almost like being in Palmacosta again.

"It smells like dead fish," he complained. He much would've preferred to go the long way around, provided the mountainous regions were less damp than this miserable little sandy inlet.

His father did not seem bothered by the horrid smell. "Fish die," was all he said.

When they had to stop for the night, Lloyd built an unreasonably big fire, hoping he could replace the putrid stench of ocean with the overpowering scent of wood smoke. Kratos did not approve of the bonfire and forced him to make it smaller.

"We don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves, Lloyd. They'll find us in a second if we build a giant beacon."

Lloyd sighed and sat as close to the fire as possible, hoping to smoke out the smell that had permeated his clothes during the course of the day. "Why did you decide to help me escape Welgaia, anyway? You never cared about me before, or else you would've helped us escape the ranch."

"I would've. Gods, I wish I did. But I was convinced you two were dead."

"And you couldn't find the time to come down and check?" And Ezra insisted that _he_ had a deadbeat dad. "You just made us easy pickings for Desians, and then just… left us?"

Kratos stared into the fire for a few seconds. "Yes. I suppose I did, now that you phrase it that way."

Lloyd suddenly felt like his tiny lunch was about to come bubbling up full force. He had to turn away from the fire and his father and stare deep into the sand to steady himself, but his father's voice continued to exacerbate his nausea.

"You have no idea how happy I was to learn you were alive. I didn't know how to handle the news—I suppose I was shocked. I was so stunned with relief I could barely function."

Lloyd drew his eyes back to his father. "Is that why you just stood there while I stabbed you?"

"Yes… well, you attacking me out of nowhere was a surprise in itself. Although, given what I did to you two, it shouldn't have come as a shock."

Lloyd thought for a moment, stilling his churning stomach. "Kratos… how could you not have known? How on earth could you possibly not know we were alive? _El__á_ can hear my stomach rumbling halfway across the desert. She can tell what I'm thinking days before I think it. If you really are my father, how could you not tell I was alive?"

"I wasn't even on the same planet as you were. For years I stayed in Welgaia. I didn't even come back to Sylvarant until recently—until right before I found you. I was… well, I had been badly wounded, for one thing. They shot me twice, three times, I don't remember. I lost enough blood to render me useless for a while. I was recovering, and I couldn't muster the strength to escape. I suppose even after I recovered I was imprisoned there, but it was a prison partially of my own making."

"So you never came to the ranch, even though you worked for the Desians."

"I saw no point in it. Everything lost all meaning once I lost you. And it was probably better for the Desians that I did not find it again. I'd already turned on them once—stolen the Angelus Project, destroyed their plans. They didn't want to risk it again. They told me you were dead but they wouldn't let me return to Sylvarant to bury you. I should've seen through it then, but I was so… clouded. I can barely remember anything that happened after I thought I'd lost you."

"_El__á _says you were working for them the whole time."

Kratos paled. "She does?"

"Yeah. She says they wanted you to give them another Angelus Project by breeding with her. That taking her from the ranch and having me was all part of their plan."

"That is… the most dismaying thing I've ever heard." Kratos seemed to reel for a moment at the revelation of this theory. His thin white fingers intertwined furiously with one another, and Lloyd could spy his jaw clenching and unclenching. "It is entirely untrue, Lloyd. You have to believe me."

"Why should I? It seems logical to me. Except for this part, the part where you break me out of that city. I don't see how that fits into that plan. Unless you just did it to drop me off at a human ranch."

"Lloyd, I would _never do that._" Lloyd flinched a little at the forceful ire in his father's voice. "I would do anything to keep you out of the ranches. I would do anything to keep you safe, do you understand?"

For a moment Lloyd thought Kratos would strike him, so he turned his head, arms twitching up to defend himself. But when no blow came, he looked up into his father's face, at the horrified, enraged expression, and for a moment, he understood that look. Something about the contours of his father's face seemed deeply familiar, genuine.

_I really do look like him_, Lloyd realized. _Just like my mother used to say. _He lowered his gaze into the base of the fire, where the flames burned hottest. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Every word."

"And you're telling the truth about _el__á_, about the exsphere? About everything?"

"I am."

Lloyd hugged his knees to his chest. "Then I trust you. For now, I trust you."

"I'm relieved to hear it."

"But I won't keep trusting you unless you tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"Yeah."

"I will try." Kratos gave in, smiling slightly. Lloyd thought a smile looked incredibly odd adorning his usually taut mouth. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Well… I want you to tell me about my mother when she was younger. How you met. I want to see if your story backs up hers."

"That's a lot to tell you, Lloyd. It's already late. How about you get some sleep and I can start the story in the morning. We'll have plenty of time as we walk."

"That's fine." Lloyd lay back, looking at the sky. He spied some familiar constellations from back home, hovering just above the horizon. Something about this situation seemed strangely nostalgic to him. He felt homesickness rise in his chest, so he closed his eyes.

* * *

All morning and well into the afternoon, Lloyd mulled over his father's stories, which corroborated his mother's in almost every aspect. The only difference was that Kratos was somehow convinced Anna hadn't liked him in the least bit at first.

"I was absolutely certain she was terrified of me. When I got her out of the ranch, she didn't really speak to me at first. But she was probably still recovering from that experience."

"Does she know what you are? I mean… your wings."

"She found out quickly enough. She didn't seem surprised, though. She liked them, even." Kratos paused to smile. "She expected you to come out with a pair of them."

"Well, why didn't I?" If indeed his father was an angel, then Lloyd should at least resemble one, if only vaguely.

"Because… it's not exactly a natural phenomenon. It's not in my blood, so it's not in yours."

"You weren't always like this?"

"No."

Lloyd thought for a moment. If he had wings, he could go anywhere he wanted. He could fly back to the desert in a trice, soar across the sands until Triet rose up in the distance, with its flat white roofs and bowed palms… He could see what the oasis looked like from far above. Maybe, just maybe, he could wait until the right moment during sunrise and then fly straight up into that deep, unfathomable blue that painted the sky.

"How can I become an angel?" he asked.

"You don't want to, Lloyd. It's a long, incredibly painful process. The rewards are not worth the effort."

"So why did you do it?"

"I was sure it was the correct thing to do, at the time. There was nothing stopping me. I had nothing to lose. I wouldn't do it again, especially not if I had a family."

Lloyd thought it over for a bit. "Is that why you were supposed to watch over the Chosen? Because you're an angel?"

"That's part of it. I have… always watched the Chosen. For many generations. It was a part of my duty as a Seraph."

"When I was with Yuan, he said some really strange things. About how the Desians and Cruxis were the ones behind the Regneration. I don't get that. The Chosen destroys the Desians."

Kratos took a deep breath, as if readying himself. "Lloyd, you've heard of Tethe'alla, right?"

"Yeah, but only in old stories and stuff. Barra can read and says that some of the oldest scrolls from the Efreet temple mention it."

Kratos did not try to pick apart the details in that statement. "That's where they go, when Sylvarant prospers."

It hit Lloyd like a sack of bricks. His mother's sleep-induced mumbling about "this" world, the curious statements of Yuan and his ilk… Lloyd couldn't help but laugh a little. "Where is it, then? Just around the bend? Yeah, I'll believe Tethe'alla exists when I meet someone from there."

"I'm from Tethe'alla."

Lloyd sighed. "You don't count. You're crazy."

"I suppose it definitely would seem that way."

Lloyd chewed on his father's confessions until they had overpassed the shallow mountain range south of the inlet and emerged onto a peninsula. He saw a grey dot in the distance, where the path met the sea.

"Is that a dock?" Lloyd asked.

"Yes. We're going to take a boat to the main continent."

"How long until we get there?"

"Not long."

Lloyd watched the path in front of him, sorting through his thoughts. "Hey, Kratos," he said when the silence proved to be a little too heavy for him.

"What?"

"What's Tethe'alla like?"

Kratos looked back over his shoulder at him, a sardonic smile on his face. "I thought you didn't believe in it."

"Yeah, well, maybe not. But we've got to talk about something."

"Hmm… Tethe'alla is difficult to describe. It has cities ten times as big as Palmacosta."

"Really?" Lloyd hurried to catch up with his father.

"It's true. In the north there is a land where the snow never melts."

"No way!"

"There's a giant bridge that attaches two of the continents—it takes days to cross."

"Now I know you're lying."

Kratos shrugged. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I'm not."

Lloyd shook his head and couldn't help but smile a little as he followed his father down to the small group of decaying buildings at the edge of the water, and the boats beyond.

* * *

As usual, getting off the boat was by far Lloyd's favorite part of the trip. He could not wait to get away from the swaying water, away from the wet, cold wind. He followed his father up the dirt path, toward the main body of the continent. By the time the heavy scent of the ocean evaporated into the dry air, they came upon their resting spot. A few shops and houses clustered between two hills, framing the dirt road that led south to the House of Salvation.

When they arrived at the creaking gates to the little settlement, Kratos gave Lloyd a small bag of coins. "Use this to buy yourself a weapon."

"Where are you going?"

"There's other shopping to be done. I'll meet you at the entrance in half an hour. We can probably make it to the House by nighttime, if we hurry. Don't forget to get yourself some food."

_As if I can__'__t listen to my own stomach_, Lloyd thought irritably, but he took the money without comment. He bought himself lunch and a few snacks for the road, then entered a shop that appeared to be some sort of cheap armory. He looked over his funds and decided that Kratos had given him much more than he had needed. Perhaps he would have some left over that he could save for a rainy day, when Kratos was no longer around to provide bags of gald seemingly out of nowhere.

Lloyd searched the shop, glancing over broadswords and claymores and rapiers and all sorts of common weapons that fell within the price range Kratos had set. _I guess he wants me to buy a longsword, _Lloyd thought. He laughed a little. _Wants his son to be a real man. _Instead of perusing his options when it came to swords, Lloyd's eyes settled on a pair of high-quality knives resting on the wall above the attendant's head.

"You have Trieti knives?" he asked.

The man looked up from his glossy magazine. "Yeah. Lots of shops do, but only for decoration. We got ones that work." He drew them off the wall and let Lloyd look them over.

He knew that when it came to cutting off limbs with a single swing, he could've chosen better. But he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Besides, they were half the price of a longsword and Lloyd loved the feeling of a little extra dough in his pocket.

"They're not bad," he said, getting used to the feeling of them. Barra had some just like these ones, but they'd been worn down with age and use. He decided they felt usable enough to shell out for them, so he gave in. He walked out of the store with two knives, leather sheaths and a belt to carry them. He figured he ought to buy a coat to hide them. He spent as little as possible buying himself new clothes, loose, light garments that fit him like his old Trieti attire once did. He felt more at home in them than the tight pants and waistcoats that most men wore around Palmacosta.

He probably shouldn't have visited the last shop he entered. He was still carrying a fair bit of coin left over from his allowance, and still had a while before he had to meet his dad, so he entered a small shop that appeared to sell anything under the sun.

He didn't know what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn't a working string instrument. When he walked in, it beckoned him from the corner, eerily, supernaturally. The dulled, stained wood and gut strings drew him in, and he stared at it for a good three minutes before the lady behind the counter asked him if he wanted it.

"Does it work?" he asked.

"Try it out."

He picked it up—it looked like a recent ancestor of the lute Colette had on reserve for him from the string shop in Palmacosta. He pressed his fingers down on the soft strings, sliding them up and down, strumming. If he could tune it like he had tuned his oud, he could probably play it fine. It boasted one more string than his old oud, and each was paired, but when he struck them, the sound pleased him enough.

"How much is it?"

"Eight thousand."

"Good Martel, are you nuts? I'll do it for two."

"Six."

"Twenty-five hundred."

"Three."

"Fine."

_And there goes the last of it,_ he thought as he handed over the entire bag of gald. He left the store with the instrument slung over his shoulder, regretting nothing. He sat down at the entrance to the settlement and fiddled with the strings until he was sure they were close enough to his oud to satisfy him. He wasn't sure what to do with the highest, extra string, so he just doubled it to the lowest.

He was unfamiliar with the way the strings fell across the neck, and the fret length could take some getting used to, but he had time enough to practice. He was just getting into the hang of it when a tall shadow fell across him. He could almost smell the disappointment emanating from his father.

"I thought I told you to buy something you can protect yourself with."

Lloyd looked up at him and drew back his coat, revealing the Trieti blades.

"_Knives_, Lloyd? I send you to buy a weapon and you come back with kitchen utensils."

"They're what I know how to use."

"And what is that thing you're fooling around with?"

"It's a lute, I think."

"_You think?_"

"Some sorta relative of it. Kinda close to an oud, though."

Kratos rested his forehead against his open palm. "My gods. Fine. Get up. Let's go."

Lloyd reattached the lute to its shoulder strap and slung it across his back. It was light and the belly pressing against his spine didn't bother him, but he'd have to make sure that if he fell, he fell face-first. He thought he could probably manage it.

"I bought you this," Kratos said, reaching over and dropping something in his palm.

Lloyd turned the little crimson rock between his fingers. "I can't use this."

"You can and you will. Here's your key crest."

"No, I won't." Lloyd stretched out his arm to his father, urging him to take it back.

Kratos refused to retake the thing. He merely turned and made his way down the road. Lloyd followed, slowly, the tiny rock lying cold and still in his hand.

"Take it back, Kratos. Take it back to the seller. I can't wear it."

"Then throw it away."

Lloyd's lungs emptied. He stopped to look at it one more time, its innocent glint, its almost innocuous form. He couldn't just drop it in the dirt—somewhere in its opaque center, the remains of a human life stirred silently. He wondered who it could have been. What if, gods forbid, it had been someone he'd known?

It could have been anyone. Maybe one of the older boys who picked on him, maybe one of the other children who had been tasked with maintaining the electrical circuits in the ranch. _Martel above, what if it__'__s the girl with all her names?_

He suddenly felt sick. More sure than ever that he couldn't wear it, he was also certain he could not throw it away. So he put it in his pocket, where he didn't have to think about it, and followed his father down the path, toward the House of Salvation.

* * *

The only one-armed woman the employees at the House had seen had left weeks ago. Lloyd insisted that they go after her right away, but it was well past sunset. Kratos got a room and practically had to confine Lloyd to it.

"We're not going to catch up to her if she's been gone for that long, Lloyd," Kratos told him. "She's obviously heading east. The real question is if she took a north turn or continued to the sea."

"In Palmacosta we lived with a family from Thoda," Lloyd said. "Could be that she went there. They might have helped her get out of the city."

"That's in the direction of Magnius' ranch. Although… it's possible to get to the sea and give it a wide berth."

Lloyd shrugged. "Maybe she went south and took a boat from there."

"Maybe she didn't go that way at all. She could still be inland, staying at a farmstead." Kratos heaved a sigh.

"Doesn't matter," Lloyd said. He twisted the tuning pegs on his lute. "No matter how long it takes, even if we have to search every damn inch of the world, I'm gonna find her."

Kratos seemed pleased. "You're quite devoted to her, aren't you?"

"Well, why wouldn't I be? She's saved my life more than once. Not to mention she gave it to me in the first place. She loves me."

Kratos opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. He sighed and went back to consulting the map he had spread before him.

Lloyd busied himself with his lute—even after a day of fiddling he was still just getting the hang of it. He managed to play a few Trieti children's ditties on it, then moved on to some of the harder melodies. Eventually he settled on playing eastern songs, since the cryptic melodies and time signatures of the desert seemed out of place on anything that wasn't an oud.

After a while Kratos stopped looking at his map and watched his son instead. When Lloyd felt eyes on him, his fingers invariably tripped over one another, and after a few minutes he gave up entirely on playing anything worthwhile.

"Did you just figure out how to play that?" his father asked.

"Eh, not really. Not yet, anyway. Still a ways to go. I don't even know how to tune it properly."

Kratos looked him over for a second. "I never knew you were so talented."

Lloyd was momentarily struck dumb by the unsolicited comment. He wasn't sure how to reply. "Yeah… well I wouldn't expect you to. You didn't know me, so how could you know anything about me?"

That seemed to end the conversation, so Lloyd put down his instrument and stretched. "I'm gonna go see what they have in the kitchens."

"You're still hungry?"

"Well, I feel like I need to eat for the both of us, since you don't."

Kratos sighed. "Just don't wander. You don't know who might be sneaking around."

Lloyd closed the door behind him and sauntered down the hall to the stairwell. He descended the stairs in silence, wondering if his father's words had been more of a threat than a warning. He told himself that no matter what, he shouldn't let Kratos trick him into trusting him completely.

It could be possible that he was sincere. But the way he wove convoluted excuses for his simple actions made Lloyd suspect otherwise. After all, Anna had once said that words were cheap, and actions were meaningful. It was one of the rules of the stage, she said. Subtext is where true significance lies.

Lloyd was not skilled enough to pick apart the meaning that colored his father's language. He wished he had inherited even a modicum of her acuity. Then he might be able to separate the lies from the truth, he might be able to glean meaning from the myriad incomprehensible tales Kratos spun, he'd be able to dissect his father's strange way of speaking and discover the thoughts beneath it. He'd be able to assess his motives, his strategies, and by extension, his intentions. Then he would know if he could really trust him or not.

It was all wishful thinking, of course. He was not his mother. He was nothing but his dense, illiterate, and incredibly hungry self, and he would have to live with that. He was intent on fixing at least one of these conditions that defined him, so when he got to the doorway of the kitchen, he knocked loudly at its edge.

"Hey, anyone in there?" A few globes of dim lamplight still shone through the curtain, and Lloyd pulled it aside. A couple cooks still cleaning up from the dinner service threw him frustrated glances. "Uh, sorry. I was just wondering if there were any leftovers from tonight you were gonna throw out. I'll eat 'em cold, I don't care."

One cook looked to another, who looked to a third.

"Yeah, there is," said a young kitchen maid. She turned back to her coworkers. "You guys keep it up, I'll take care of it." Without exchanging words, they all went back to their various duties. The girl looked back up at Lloyd, smiling. "Just wait in the lobby, I'll bring it for you."

He leaned against the wall, tapping a beat out on his thighs until she reemerged from the kitchen, presenting a small plate of cold meat and raw, soft vegetables. "You're going to have to eat around any rot you find," she said. "Not many edible leftovers in this House."

"That's okay," he said, taking the plate from her.

"Oh, and Lloyd. It _is_ Lloyd, isn't it?"

His heart stopped for a moment. He looked her over, at her smiling face, her knock-kneed way of standing. She couldn't have been older than fourteen. "How do you…"

"I'm supposed to tell you and no one else, so hush-hush."

Lloyd glanced up the stairs, to make sure his father wasn't eavesdropping at the top. "Tell me what?"

"You're looking for your mum, right?"

"Yeah."

The girl grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close. "She came through here, instructed me to tell her son where she went. But no one else. I need to make sure you're him."

Lloyd narrowed her eyes at her. She didn't _look_ like a Desian, but then again, neither had Kratos. He decided to humor her, since she already knew who he was and what he was searching for. "All right."

"What play were you going to go see?" she asked.

_Gods damn you, el__á__, _Lloyd thought. _You know I can__'__t read. _He was going to hazard a guess, but he could honestly not come up with any title. He hadn't been able to read any of them at the ticket office, he hadn't heard their names spoken aloud—he didn't exactly spend his time with the highly educated theatergoers of Palmacosta. He didn't know what the ticket itself had said. He thought about it for a few seconds. It should've been obvious that he didn't know what the tickets said, but as far as he knew, she hadn't seen them at all… Yes, they'd been in his pocket the entire time. There was only one certainty, one thing that was important to her.

"Not _Isabella._"

Her smile told him he was right. But he couldn't help but wonder why his mother put such tight security on her whereabouts. Perhaps she expected him to be followed, by Cruxis, or Yuan, or any number of malefactors that could've guessed the answer to that question simply by having been in Palmacosta recently. Maybe she suspected whoever had captured Lloyd during the raid had removed those bloodstained tickets from his pockets. In that case, a correct answer would've told the girl she was speaking to someone other than Lloyd.

He couldn't say he disapproved of her method. He couldn't have come up with something better under the same circumstances. But he still harbored curiosity as to how she had managed to convince this little kitchen girl to do her such a big favor.

"Why'd you bother going to all that trouble?" he asked.

She flashed a toothy grin. "Let's just say she left a generous tip. Now I'm supposed to leave you a different one." The girl leaned up to him. "She says the lone sparrow flew over the pass. That's all." She patted him on the shoulder. "If you need anything, anything at all—just pay me a visit." She winked at him and disappeared behind the curtain.

He stood for a moment, holding his plate of cold leftovers, heart thumping. He took a deep breath before carefully ascending the stairs, trying not to spill anything. When he got back to their room, Kratos was again hunched over the map, cradling his chin.

Lloyd sat opposite him and started to eat. He watched his father's unearthly eyes twitch around the contours of the map, rapidly calculating distance, timescale, probability. Lloyd spied his fingers extend and retract, as if he were imagining counting on them.

When he was done his meal, he walked over to Kratos and leaned over his shoulder, staring down at the map. "Where are we?" he asked.

Kratos lay his finger at the center of the southernmost continent. "We're here, where it says 'House of Salvation.'"

Lloyd reached over and traced a line from the little dot on the map, all the way northeast, until his fingertip stopped on what seemed to be a pathway between two large mountains. "And what is this?"

"That's Hakenosia Pass, Lloyd, can't you—" his father stopped abruptly and raised his eyes to meet Lloyd's. He stared into them so intensely Lloyd had to look away. "She didn't teach you?"

Lloyd shrugged, still not daring to meet his father's judgmental gaze. "I didn't let her. I was more interested in other things. She tried to sit me down and make me learn but I wouldn't stay still."

Kratos seemed not to know what to say. He resumed his meticulous scanning, tracing out possible routes with his eyes. Lloyd didn't want the strange silence to hang between them forever, so he resumed pointing at the pass.

"If I were _el__á__, _I would go north, past here. Away from the ranch."

"That would be my guess as well. Magnius is infamous for his prisoner intake. If she wandered too close he'd catch her in an instant."

"So… we should go to Hakenosia next, then."

"Yes. Perhaps someone has seen her. If not, we'll decide what to do then."

Lloyd considered telling his father about the kitchen girl's message, but he only sat back on the bed and removed his overcoat. A tiny weight in the right pocket caught his attention, and he reached into it, hoping that it was an extra silver piece or two.

He had forgotten he'd put the exsphere there. When he pulled it out, he released a disappointed sigh, and set it on the bedside table before resting his head on the pillow.

Kratos glanced over at him. "I see you didn't throw it out," he said.

"No. I decided it would be a waste."

"You'd be correct."

Lloyd turned over on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"You know you're going to have to wear it sooner or later," Kratos said. "Simply carrying it around will do no good, and you know it."

"Shut up." Lloyd shut his eyes tight against the flickering lamplight. "What would you know about how it feels to wear one?"

"A lot more than you think."

Lloyd grabbed the thin pillow and held it over his face, blocking out the light. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. "You've never been a prisoner in the ranches."

Kratos didn't reply. After a few minutes, Lloyd removed the pillow and resumed staring at the ceiling. "Sometimes, when I saw travelers come through Triet wearing exspheres, I'd get so angry at them. I'd look at them and it'd be like looking at someone wearing the skin of another person as a coat. I'd see one and think, 'What if that rock was someone I knew? What if I'd known the person that exsphere used to be?' Then I think about how it could've been me. It could've been _el__á__._" Lloyd lay his arm across his eyes, finding comfort in the darkness. "Sometimes I wish I didn't know."

"It would be easier not to know, I agree. But now that you do know, you can wear one with the comprehension of the sacrifice involved. That is far more ethical than wearing one with ignorance of where it came from." He paused. "As far as I'm concerned, people who know and accept the sacrifices of others are the only ones who can wear them with a clear conscience."

Lloyd reached over and took the rock between his fingers. "Is there any way to find out?"

"Find out what?"

He stared into the deep red. "Find out who this exsphere used to be."

"No. It doesn't work like that."

He replaced it at his bedside and drew the covers over him. A sudden chill had entered the room, but he couldn't tell from where. He merely bundled up against it, turned on his stomach, and forced his eyes shut.

"Do you need anything?"

The way his father kept repeating that same inquiry struck him as needless and condescending. "Stop asking me that. I'm fine."

"Suit yourself."

_Do I need anything?_ he couldn't help asking himself. He conceded that he needed plenty of things. He needed to find his mother again. He needed privacy, he needed certainty, he needed to go back home to the desert, he needed to go to sleep. It wasn't a terribly long list, but woefully unfulfilled. The best he could do was focus on the last and most easily attained need. But he even had trouble merely doing that.

With a sigh, he looked up at the ceiling, and admitted to himself that he still had a long road ahead of him.


	25. My Father's Hands

When they set off toward the east, the sky hung low and grey, dulling all the colors around them and sending a wet chill through Lloyd's bones. He shivered, plucking at the strings of his lute just to keep his hands warm. His deft fingers slid up and down the neck, pushing and releasing, as he plucked and hummed to himself. Perhaps, if his mother were somewhere nearby, she'd hear him sing and come out of the wilderness, greeting him with a wide smile, as she always did.

"You know, your mother used to do that." It was the first thing his father had said all morning. He had mostly stayed ahead, keeping his sharp gaze locked on the farthest turns of the road, looking out for any Desians that might be passing by.

"Do what?" Lloyd asked.

"Sing while we walked. And we'd walk a lot." Lloyd trotted a little faster, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever expression was passing across Kratos' features. "She liked to put you on her shoulders and sing the bawdiest songs, just because you couldn't understand them. The more vulgar the tune, the more often she'd sing it." Lloyd thought he spied a smile on his father's face. "I was worried you'd start to sing them back—I was terrified your first words would be the chorus of some Palmacostan drinking song."

Lloyd laughed. "I know a few of those kinds of songs. _El__á_ never taught them to me, though. They're from Triet, mostly."

"Trieti songs were not in her usual repertoire. She had quite a few though. She sang all the time, especially to you. Whenever I was sure that I'd heard every one she knew, she'd pull out another from nowhere. I'm certain she'd make them up on the spot."

"I'd believe that," Lloyd said, resuming his strumming. He hung back for a bit, repeating an especially challenging passage. "Did your mother ever sing to you when you were a kid?"

Kratos apparently failed to anticipate the question. His toe caught on a clump of dirt on the road and he had to skip a step to recover. "No. At least, I don't think so. I lost her when I was very young."

"How about your dad, then?"

"Him too."

Lloyd adorned the melody line with a few trills. "No mother, no father… What did you do without them?"

"I… did what many other boys did. I joined the army and went to war. There was nothing else to do."

Lloyd did not recall ever hearing about a war in recent history. Sylvarant just didn't seem to possess the resources for its various provinces to spend on fighting. Then again, Triet was a state known for its neutrality and isolation, so he wasn't exactly raised in a place familiar with warfare. _Maybe if I went to school, I__'__d know._

"Which war?" he asked.

"What?"

"Which war did you fight in?"

"There is only one war, Lloyd. It just crops up at different times and in different places."

Lloyd gave Kratos' back his most displeased glare, hoping his father would feel his disapproval of that particular equivocation. Lloyd knew he would not be able to drag Kratos back on topic and get him to talk about it. Lloyd just figured he might as well assume his father was involved in the most heinous crimes against humanity. After all, he was a Desian. Lloyd seemed eager to forget that fact—and Kratos did his best to make sure the subject was never brought to the light of conversation.

Lloyd still thought about war when they set up their supplies a few miles from the base of Hakenosia. Kratos struggled to light the tiny mound of wet wood they'd collected, and Lloyd sat on a nearby log, staring. If he had his electric light they wouldn't even need to stave off this darkness. He missed his toolbox; he missed living in the part of the world where machinery was less scarce. This damp, dark, eastern continent seemed regressive to him—barbaric, even.

When his father finally got a few weak flames to crawl up the sides of their logs, he stood. Lloyd was about to ask what he was doing when he drew his sword, steel glinting in the dim light. Lloyd's eyes hovered over its sharp tip, and for a moment he wondered if this was the moment his father would betray him and return him to his Desian captors.

"Well?" Kratos said expectantly.

"Well what?"

"Get out those knives and show me what you can do."

"You beat me up once in Palmacosta, remember?" Lloyd said. "You know what I can and can't do."

"I know how you can fight without an exsphere," Kratos replied. "Show me how you can fight with one."

Lloyd's stomach turned. "No."

"Fine then. I'll train you without one. But if you want to keep your mother safe, you're going to have to use it. You're weak without one."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes, standing and drawing his knives. He wanted to dare his father to say it again, he wanted desperately to threaten him, just once, and be able to back it up. But he knew he couldn't. "I'm fine without one."

Kratos only raised an eyebrow and stepped away from the fire, where there were few obstacles to trip over. He gripped the hilt with both hands and nodded at Lloyd to come at him.

Despite knowing how the exercise would end, Lloyd obliged him. When he was knocked to the mossy ground, he pulled himself back up and collected his knives, which had been strewn about the clearing by Kratos' strong parries.

"Again," Kratos said.

Lloyd hesitated, staring at his knives, wondering if there was a point to this hollow exercise.

"You're in no fit state to protect anyone with that form. Again."

Lloyd tried not to let his father's insults wound him too deeply, but there was a truth to them he couldn't escape. He knew he'd be unhurt by such debasement if it weren't actually true, but his own concession pained him more than his father's accusations. He _was_ weak. He had to come to terms with it, or else change it.

As much as he hated his father for reminding him of his weakness, he had to admit that this was probably the best way to eliminate it altogether. He lunged at his father again, and took the beatings in stride.

He hit the ground more times than he could count. His knees were wet with dirt, his muscles aching with effort, his mind reeling from the futility of it all. He knew he would never win against Kratos—even when he had managed to stab the man almost all the way through, he had still rebounded, stronger than ever.

About the dozenth time Lloyd tumbled into the dirt, propelled by the flat of Kratos' sword, he stayed down. He panted, rolling to his side, and wished that his father would let him stay there, resting in the dirt. Evidently it was too much to ask for.

"You need to work on your defense. Get up." Lloyd trembled to his feet, but he didn't start the routine again. He looked down at the ground, thinking. His father lowered his sword, evidently following his train of thought all the way to its inevitable conclusion. "Put it on, Lloyd. See what you can do."

"I don't know if I can."

"You can. You're one of the only human beings alive who's earned the right to use one."

The tiny rock sat silently in his pocket. He couldn't help but return one knife to its sheath and reach down inside, pinching it between his fingertips. It felt hot, charged, as if it knew he was considering putting it on.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to himself, and lay the key crest across his skin. When he pressed the tiny stone to it, he felt no different. There was no surge of power, no sudden expertise. He felt normal.

He raised his knives again and slashed at Kratos, giving it his all. Just like all the other bouts, his blades slipped off Kratos' longsword and his stabs were caught mid-motion. His movements remained slow, ineffectual.

"You're wearing it, but you're not _using_ it," Kratos scolded, swinging his sword flat-first and bringing it down on Lloyd's back. He stumbled, winded. He had to take a few breaths before he could speak.

"How do I use it, then?"

Kratos only thrust at him, tip first, breaking through Lloyd's guard. The blade slid between his defenses, clipping him under the ribs. Lloyd tried to back off, but Kratos continued pushing forward with a force he had not used before. He drew the sword back, taking a few fibers of Lloyd's shirt with it.

His heart started to race when he realized there was blood dripping down his side. "What are you—" he didn't finish, since he had to duck a powerful swipe that could've easily taken off his head. He backed up, raising his knives again, and his father struck forward. He had abandoned using the flat of his blade. This appeared to have evolved into a fight to the death.

Lloyd's heart pounded into overdrive, deafening him, forcing his legs into a light, ready stance. His vision tunneled, his panic drove strength into his arms and quickness into his feet. When his father struck at his face, sword tip first, he swiped it aside, ducking quickly.

His hand burned, just slightly. When he slid forward, knives raised, under the still-extended arm of his father, time seemed to slow. Something drove his blade upward, something besides himself, and a flame of strength burned its way up his arm. His knife met his father's flesh, drawing a spray of blood. He ducked around, trying to avoid the inevitable counter swing, but the longsword came at him, impossibly fast, glinting brightly. He barely had time to raise his knives before the blade bore down on him. It hit his defenses with such force his entire arm shook, and by the time he retreated from the blade's path, he realized he'd lost a knife.

He panicked a little, bearing in on his father with his remaining blade, but despite his injury, Kratos easily parried the stroke. Lloyd kept his eyes on the long, silver blade, still stained with a streak of his blood, waiting for it to arc around toward him, bypassing his knife and slicing him through…

The punch to his face came as a surprise. He would've thought that a strike aimed at his eyes would be easily spotted, but it had come so fast and so suddenly, he could do nothing as Kratos' knuckles met his eyebrow. His right eye went blind, he swore he could feel his brain rattling against his skull.

Momentarily disoriented and partially blind, it was easy for Kratos to knock the second knife from his hand. When his father's blade settled at his throat, Lloyd knew that he didn't have time to recover his weapons and resume the fight. He was at his father's mercy now.

The burning, panicked pain in his hand declined when Kratos removed his sword and held it relaxed at his side. "Good," he said, half-smiling. "Very good."

Lloyd released a sigh and fell to his knees. Gods, he was so tired… He looked down at his hand just in time to see the little red stone fade back into innocuous dimness. The power, the fear he felt just moments before, evaporated like mist, and Lloyd was left only with a feeling of empty exhaustion. He was suddenly famished.

Kratos looked over his bleeding arm. "You're quick, Lloyd." He strode up to him, set down his stained sword, and reached over to hold his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Lloyd's hand instinctively wandered to his side, where he cupped the still-bleeding laceration. "What the hell was that?" he asked.

"That's how you use an exsphere."

Lloyd leaned back, turning his gaze to the fire. He didn't know what to think of it. It was liberating, intense, vitalizing, and utterly wrong. He could not help but arrive at the conclusion that the power he had sucked from the exsphere was the force of someone else's life. Giving in to the sudden aversion he felt toward the little stone, he took off the exsphere, returning it to his pocket, and the pain from his injuries suddenly seemed that much worse. He flinched when his father reached out to prod at his rapidly swelling eye.

"What are you doing?" Lloyd asked, pulling away.

"Hold still." A warm light gathered at the tips of his father's fingers, and Lloyd let him hold his hand over his eye. Lloyd sighed, the pain lessening with each passing moment. When Kratos took his hand away, Lloyd could see again and his face no longer hurt. Kratos motioned for him to remove his hand from his side, and he gently held his fingers against Lloyd's exposed skin.

Lloyd's heart raced, his breathing shallowed as his father healed him. He looked at his father's arm, at the dark gash that ran across it, still dripping blood across the dirt, and marveled that Kratos would choose to fix his minor scratches when there was a much deeper wound to heal.

It was the first time, Lloyd realized with nothing short of a start, that his father had touched him in any context other than violence. His mother was quick to express herself with her hand—an encouraging squeeze to Lloyd's shoulder, an affectionate tousling of his hair, a sharp flick to the forehead if he'd said something uncouth. He wondered if his father was once the same way, but had changed since they had separated. In any event, Lloyd wasn't quite sure what to make of his father's contact, but it assuaged his pain, so he let Kratos hold his side and mutter under his breath until the sting of the cut disappeared entirely.

When Kratos was sure Lloyd had stopped bleeding, he turned to his own wound. "You managed to get quite a good hit," he said, almost admiring the deep gash. Lloyd couldn't really look at the wound without feeling a little sick, so he turned away.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be, Lloyd. It was an excellent strike." Lloyd hugged his knees and looked into the fire. He tried to remember if Barra had taught him to do that or if it was something the exsphere told him to do on the spot. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He couldn't recall deciding to do it, which was what scared him most. And now, when he had control over his own body again, he feared returning to that state.

Kratos reached over and lay a hand on his arm. He didn't pull away. "It's an acquired skill, Lloyd. No one is immediately good at it. It feels strange at first."

"I don't know if it will ever _not_ feel strange. You know… wearing—using another person's life."

"I know. It's a hideous concept. But it's one you'll have to use if you want to keep your mother alive."

Lloyd lay down on the ground, overcome by exhaustion. "It's so… tiring," he said. His stomach rumbled aggressively.

"At first, yes. But you'll get better at controlling it. You'll know when to tap into its power and when to leave it alone."

"Why did you need to attack me outright? I thought you were gonna kill me."

"You were reluctant to use its power. It wouldn't respond unless you really needed it—when your desire to survive overpowered your desire to avoid using it."

"It can tell that sorta thing?"

"You control it. Remember that—you are in control of it, not the other way around. Too many people have made the mistake of thinking otherwise. It was a good way to have the exsphere take over completely."

Lloyd thought of that horrible story of his mother, control lost, a flailing, violent monster, coming to kill him. Instinctively he reeled from any possibility of the validity of such a story, but somewhere deep inside his head lay a vague feeling that it was true. That somehow, under some extraordinary circumstance, his mother had lost her humanity.

He rejected the thought immediately. He would never believe that tale until he heard it from the mouth of Anna herself. After all, Kratos was a liar, and Anna was not. He tried to trick himself into thinking it really was that simple, but he knew better than that. His mother had taught him better than that.

"Hey, Kratos," he said. He lifted his head to see his father sitting cross-legged by the fire, wiping some of his blood from the longsword. He had a thousand things he'd like to ask, but he settled on the most important. "Is there any food left?"

Kratos reached into the pack and pulled out a few old strips of jerky, handing them to Lloyd. "It's kinda nice that you never eat," Lloyd couldn't help saying, as he filled his watering mouth. "I can stuff my face without having to worry if you got enough. _El__á'_s got the same appetite as me—we could eat a horse between us, so there's always a shortage."

"Yes, she's always been like that. Never had to worry about her eating enough. Especially…" he stopped to release a breath that may have been a laugh. "Especially when she was pregnant with you. She ate everything in sight—and not that I could've blamed her. When you came out, round as a watermelon, we realized you'd been absorbing all her food all those months."

"Really? Was I that fat?"

"You were… quite rotund. 'Well-marbled,' Anna used to say. She would joke about serving you up for dinner to get all her stolen nutrients back from you."

Lloyd chuckled. "She would. She's always trying to fatten me up, like the witch from that old story. It hasn't worked, so far. After the ranch… we both had a hard time getting back to normal. Getting our ribs to stop showing."

The omnipresent swish of Kratos' cloth on his sword stopped abruptly. Lloyd thought he was going to say something, but his mouth only twitched, kept shut, and after a while he went back to wiping his blade.

Lloyd knew he'd ruined the conversation. Kratos didn't seem eager to continue the discussion of Anna, so Lloyd merely lay down and listened to the crackling of the fire. He looked up between the tips of the trees reaching up to the sky and counted the stars. "When did you become an angel?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"A long time ago."

Lloyd drew out the constellations he knew, the ones his mother had taught him, the ones Barra had taught him. There were different stories, different shapes for different parts of the world, but there were a few that seemed to be universal. A few shapes in the sky were obvious—they generally were recognized the world over. And then there were the more convoluted ones, the ones that spanned the sky and overlapped and kept dozens of stories in their contours. Mithos the Hero, Martel the Goddess, and other characters from the Great War that plagued Sylvarant thousands of years ago still retained their ubiquity.

An odd thought struck Lloyd. He decided that it might be the best time to follow it, since he didn't know how long he'd be stuck out here in the wilderness with his father.

"That war you mentioned. It was the Kharlan War, wasn't it?"

Again, the sound of Kratos maintaining his sword stopped. "What makes you think that?"

Lloyd rolled over and looked at him. "It's the only war I know about. Well… other than a few other pretty famous ones, but they were also hundreds or thousands of years ago."

"Yes. It was the Kharlan War."

Lloyd had expected more equivocation, more aversion to the root of the question. He sat in shock, turning the information over in his head. If his father's goal in answering the question was to render Lloyd quiet for a while, he certainly succeeded.

"So… you're never going to die," Lloyd concluded after much calculation.

"I am, eventually. I've just avoided it so far. Immortality is conditional, Lloyd." Kratos shook his head. "I don't expect you'll ever be faced with the option to eschew mortality, but if you are, remember this: there's always a price to pay."

"What price did you pay?"

"I…" Kratos paused to collect his thoughts. "I watched the peaceful world I longed for crumble around me. I watched my acquaintances grow old and die, and those closest to me slowly change into people I no longer recognized. Everything I'd ever known degraded into nothing, or else mutated for the worst. I lost hope." He looked at his silent son. "If I could do it all again, I likely would've chosen to die when it was time. But then… I never would've met your mother, or you." He went back to cleaning his sword. "So I'm still unsure."

Lloyd could not help thinking that maybe if Kratos had chosen the more natural, less circuitous route toward death, Anna might've found a different man and Lloyd could've had a real father. One with actual presence in his childhood. Maybe without Kratos, she never would've found herself at the ranch in the first place—maybe there would've been no ranches at all. If Kratos had worked for Cruxis, and they were the ones that built the ranches, then maybe if he had died a long time ago, none of this would've happened at all. The world would've been a much better place.

"Maybe you should've died," Lloyd could not help but mutter.

"Maybe."

"Without you, there would be no Desians."

"True. But without me, the Kharlan War would've raged on until there was nothing left. There wouldn't have been Desians, but there would've been no one at all."

"You can't take credit for ending the war."

"I can take credit for helping the boy who did."

"Mithos? Really?" Lloyd sat up. "He's real?"

"As you or I."

Lloyd's own hopeful gullibility suddenly dawned on him. "Gods, I can't believe I listen to you. You're like _el__á_, always pulling my leg. But you're cruel about it."

"I don't really expect you to believe me. Or forgive me, for all the horrible things I've done. But I have done good, as well. Very little of it, but I have tried my best. I did one thing right. I had a small part in bringing a strong, kind boy into the world, and I'm sure he'll mitigate its misery, if he wants to."

Lloyd blushed. "Why are you telling me all this nonsense?"

"You asked me to. You wanted me to give you information, and I have. What you do with it now is up to you."

"Kratos, you're… so weird."

"Perhaps."

"So…" Lloyd started after a long pause. "Tell me about Mithos."


	26. On Kratos and his Son (and his Dog)

"Just down this road is Asgard. It shouldn't be too long now."

Lloyd sighed. His feet ached like hell, the sound of the harsh wind blowing across his ears had deafened him for so long that when his father led him to the windless cover between two mountains, he found their footsteps uncomfortably loud.

The mountains were bare and red, rising toward a cloudless sky with seemingly unnatural steepness. They reminded Lloyd of the desert—these dark hills seemed like the distant, sharper cousins of the white dunes that rolled under the same deep blue sky. He imagined the strong winds here blew rocks off their sides the same way the wind at home blew grains of sand from the crests of the dunes.

When they entered the quiet, shadowy mountains, Lloyd urged Kratos to resume his divulgence. Lloyd didn't know if he was being constantly lied to by a particularly practiced charlatan, or if everything his father said was true, but at this point the image he had of Mithos was so vivid in his head it no longer mattered whether he was real or not.

The boy who had split the world in half to save it from itself had been young, far younger than he was often depicted in his portraits and statues. He'd been a little scrawny, but made up for it with a resourceful quickness. He had been stubborn and strong willed, and for a large portion of his life, illiterate. He had been of mean birth but had done what he could with the hand life dealt him. He had been an avid musician—he'd played a variety of instruments, but favored the pan flute. He had a sister he'd loved as a mother, and was as devoted to her as Lloyd was to Anna.

It appeared the only difference between Lloyd and Mithos was the four thousand years that separated them. "Is he still alive?" Lloyd asked.

"Yes. He's like me."

"An angel?"

"Yes."

Lloyd thought for a moment, pulling his lute closer to him. Mithos being an angel meant one of many possible things. He could be like Yuan, fighting against Cruxis, he could be a rogue spirit by now, like the winged spirits said to flutter from tree to tree around the northern forests. Or he could be… "What does he think about you working for the Desians? A hero like that probably wouldn't approve."

Kratos hesitated for a moment. "We have… our disagreements from time to time."

"You still talk to him?"

"Occasionally."

"Can I meet him?"

Kratos stopped in his tracks. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lloyd."

"Why not? We seem like we'd get along."

Kratos took a deep breath. Lloyd hoped he was pausing to consider it. But when Kratos opened his mouth again, it was only to announce that they had arrived.

The gate to the city was cracked and brown, like the mountains between which it stood. The wind that managed to flow through the lee of the hills rattled its faded sign. Lloyd looked around, at the rundown shacks of houses, the tumbledown inn, the dirt streets. "Seen better days, huh?" he couldn't help commenting.

"The nicer part of the town is up those stairs, if I recall correctly," Kratos answered. "The ruins are up there, but I haven't been here in quite some time."

_Probably not since he first met my mother around here, _Lloyd thought. "I wonder if she's here," he wondered aloud.

"I can't say I have an educated guess," Kratos said. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

By the time they dropped off their belongings at the nearest inn (with the exception of Lloyd's lute, of course), the sun was eagerly slipping behind the distant mountaintops. It didn't stop Lloyd from exploring the town a little, images of his mother as a young woman haunting every step. He wondered what it must've been like for her to arrive here on her first tour. Driven by this thought, he passed by massive pillars and ancient monuments, past the museums and houses and shops, looking only for the building that would connect him to her.

It turned out not to be a building at all. The only playhouse in town was an outdoor amphitheater, nestled into one of the many hillsides that sloped away from the business district on the back end of the main square. It seemed that the theater itself was thousands of years old, and it mystified him that this town could upkeep a monument, even retain its original use, for so long. Lloyd wondered how old his father had been when the theater was first constructed.

He thought that if Anna was somewhere in the town, she'd probably be in close proximity to the theater. He had no justification for this, except for that she might think it would be the first place her son would look for her. He sat himself down in one of the empty rows as the sun set behind him, lighting the stage a perfect white.

He started to play a variation of a familiar Trieti song. The sound rang clear down to the stage and back, saturating the air. The frequent gusts of wind carried each measure across the grass and into the surrounding neighborhoods, reverberating off the buildings and the mountain slopes.

He thought perhaps if he played loud enough, played well enough, his mother might hear him. She might emerge from wherever she was hiding and reach out to him, follow the lines of his melody straight to him. He knew that even though the strings of the lute vibrated differently than those of his oud, his mother would recognize the swell of his phrases, his augmentations, the way he carried a tune. She would know it was him, and she would come running. If only she heard.

He ended the song with a heavy strum, and listened to it dissipate into the air. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then he heard the slight, unmistakable sound of a foot compressing dirt, and turned eagerly. He tried to hide his disappointment when his visitor turned out to only be his father.

"Lloyd, it's almost dark. I know you want to keep looking for her, but you should get some rest."

"Yeah… I know." He should've known better than to hope she'd come running, just a few eager strums. She might not even be in the town, much less within earshot of his instrument.

He exhaled heavily as he pulled himself off the marble bench and followed his father up the aisle. At the top of the stairs, he glanced back to see the last rays of sunset slip off the pillars of the stage and disappear entirely.

* * *

Lloyd sat on the bed, stroking the inn's affectionate cat, grey fur floating onto his pants. He sighed, gently pulling clumps of hair from its back as it purred and kneaded his knees with sharp claws.

Kratos could sense his unease. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Relax, Lloyd. Two days of searching doesn't cover the whole town."

"But it _does_," Lloyd said. "This town is no Palmacosta. There sure as hell aren't _that_ many places to hide."

"You forget the tunnels under the city. The ruins. The darker, more forgotten parts of the town."

It made Lloyd a little angry, thinking of his mother living in squalor in the collapsed wreckage of buildings long demolished by time and wind. He just pulled at the cat's coat as it rolled its head around in pleasure, mewling. Each night, she had come to visit him in their room, begging for affection, and leaving satisfied with Lloyd's gentle petting. He moved the cat from his lap and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The old tabby meowed at the rejection and decided she'd better crawl onto his thighs, where she kneaded him a few times before settling down, purring. Lloyd sighed and let the cat win.

Perhaps Kratos could tell he did not want to talk about their failure when it came to finding Anna. "Are you fond of animals, Lloyd?"

"Oh, they're okay. I like birds the best, because they can fly wherever they want. I like cats, too. They… well, I think I have something in common with them."

"Cats eat birds, you know."

"I know. But so do we, sometimes. Doesn't mean I can't like them both."

"You don't seem like a cat person to me."

"Yeah, _el__á_ says that too. But they remind me that I'm not in the ranch. Out here, cats are the ones to go into the walls and bring rats out. And they do it because they want to, not because they're forced to. I like how they don't let anyone tell them what to do. I want to be like that." At Kratos' heavy silence, he continued. "The first nice animal I remember meeting was a cat. An old white tom by the oasis. I was so scared of him."

"You don't remember Noishe?"

"Who?"

"We had a… dog once."

"Oh. No, I don't remember him."

"That's a pity. He was quite fond of you. He and your mother were constantly competing for your affection. Your mother usually won, but that didn't stop him from trying." Kratos paused to look out the window. "I wonder where he is now."

"Dead, probably. Dogs don't live as long as cats do."

"He's most likely alive. He ran from the gunshots… when it happened." Lloyd did not need reminding of the event. "He's out there somewhere, in the wilderness."

"What sort of dog is he? He's gotta be older than fifteen."

"He's much older than that."

Lloyd shot his father an incredulous look. "Don't tell me—"

"He saved me, once or twice, during the War. Took down more soldiers than I did."

Lloyd closed his eyes and laughed. "Goddamn. Even the family pet is a war criminal."

Kratos snorted. "He would throw a fit if he heard you say that."

Lloyd shook his head and closed his eyes, listening to the old cat purr fervently.

* * *

The next day, he left his lute in their room. Too often these past few days he found himself sitting and playing it, hoping his mother would hear, instead of looking for her like he should be. He felt empty-handed without it, inexplicably vulnerable, even though he had his knives and the little exsphere his father had given him. He didn't have anything to occupy his fingers, so they twitched at his sides as he made his rounds of the town.

He walked down by the cliffs, up toward the ruins, past the houses and hotels and shops, and stopped by the amphitheater again. There was no sign of his mother, but it looked like there was an event scheduled that day. People gathered at its entrance, shouting to one another over the dozens of vendors trying to sell souvenirs or snacks. Many lounged on the seats, talking, laughing, but the stage remained empty.

"What's happening here?" Lloyd asked a man passing by.

"Oh, just a farce put on by the students here. A real old one—free to the public, you know."

Lloyd wondered if he should sit down and watch his first play, but it seemed wrong for him to go without his mother. She was supposed to show him around, tell him about theater and buy him wine at intermission. All so he could take Colette…

He suddenly didn't want to see the play. He bit his lip and pushed through the crowd to the path that led back into the city proper. He wondered if his mother was among the members of the audience that plugged entrance to the theater, and if he was missing her by slipping out of the crowd. He figured he'd be able to get a better view of the audience from a higher hill or the top of a building, so he decided his first order of business was to squeeze past the mob and find a viewpoint.

Before he could find the edge of the crowd, he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see a small man hunched over an equally small easel. He looked like had just rolled over the hill of years that constituted middle age. His fingers were stained with charcoal, and he had a black smudge on his upper lip where he had presumably wiped his nose. On his easel sat a stack of thick paper.

"You want your portrait done?"

"No, thanks." Lloyd tried to go.

The man reached out and grabbed his sleeve before looking him over. "Wait a tick, you look like a boy who appreciates art. I have a picture you'd probably like to contemplate, free of charge."

Lloyd gulped, a little confused, but willing to humor this obviously nutty old man. His fingers flexed, aching for something to do as he waited. The little man sorted through his stack of pictures, looking for the right one. He took forever, and when he finally handed Lloyd his picture, it was folded in quarters and crumpled terribly.

"Uh. Thanks," Lloyd said, without looking at it.

"Don't mention it, kid." The artist turned back to his easel, calling out to passers by, offering his services.

Lloyd put the tiny piece of paper in his pocket and pushed his way through the crowd. When the density of people thinned, he slowed down, stomach growling. It was close to dinnertime, almost time for him to call the day a failure and retreat to the inn. He didn't want to give up until he'd scanned that entire crowd for his mother, so he quickly stopped and bought himself some fruit to tide him over until he got back to the inn. The only thing they had available were a few dark red apples, but he made do.

He sat himself on the slope of a hillside by the theater, where he could see down onto the audience. He couldn't view the stage from his vantage point, but he was fairly certain his mother would not be on it. He instead watched the crowd. He saw their smiles appear and disappear as the play wore on, he saw their laughter, their mouths drop, he saw a few whisper to one another, giggling amongst themselves, but he did not see his mother. He sighed, resolving to remain for the duration of the performance, and threw his apple core down the hillside.

He decided to take out the little paper and look at it. He opened it carefully, trying his best not to rip the edges, and unfolded it on his lap. The sky was darkening quickly, but he could make out the curves and contours of the portrait.

It wasn't a portrait at all, as he expected, at least not of a person. The scene was drawn as a landscape, the gate of the town sitting in the very center of the picture. On one side of the gate, a lone sparrow flew up toward the sky, feet curled elegantly beneath her. She was missing a few feathers on her wing. On the other side of the gate sat another sparrow, pecking at the ground for crumbs. Beside him lurked a hawk, casting a long shadow across the ground.

Lloyd's heart skipped a beat and he instinctively crumpled the paper in his fist, looking around for any sign that he was no longer alone. He stood up, abandoning his post, ignoring the laughing faces of the audience, and broke into a run down the hillside. He slipped on the grass, arms flailing about him, feet tripping over one another, but he made it to the path to the theater in one piece. He sprinted down it, paper clutched in his hand, until he reached the spot where the artist had been. He found only an empty plot of soft grass, dirt still imprinted with the three legs of the easel.

He started the walk back toward the inn, glancing down at the paper more than he was watching where he was going. He stumbled along, eyes glued to the picture of the sparrows and the hawk, and tried his best to interpret it. His mother had obviously left the city, yes, that was why she was going though the gate toward… was it a lake? A river? Lloyd couldn't tell. The crumbs she left him remained insubstantial. He turned his eyes to the hawk, at the way he loomed, sharp talons digging into the earth.

So, she was here long enough to know he was with his father. She might've been watching him from the shadows and he utterly failed to notice. It struck him then how horrible of a son he was. She was able to smell him from a mile away, and he hadn't been sensitive enough to know he was within sight of her.

Lloyd knew for certain then that his mother would not reveal herself if he stayed with Kratos. With him out of the way, it should be easy for Lloyd to find her, especially if she was aware of his whereabouts intimately enough to leave him little messages like this. But he had no way to get rid of his father. He couldn't kill him, he couldn't fight him off… maybe if he could sneak off into the night… no, his father had unnaturally good hearing, and never slept. That reduced his chances of nighttime escape to zero, but maybe tomorrow, when he was sent out to search for Anna, he could slip out of the city and into the wilderness, following her clues.

Lloyd took one last look at the picture and committed every detail to memory. A sense of déjà vu enveloped him as he stared at the drawing, and he instinctively glanced to his arm where his mother had left him her first picture message, at the ranch so many years ago. When he was sure that he had memorized the whole thing, he crumpled it up and threw it into the wind. It flew past a dilapidated handrail and tumbled off a cliff into the dark ravine below.

Satisfied with his plan, he made his way back to the inn. The old grey tabby came out to greet him, mewling, rubbing up against his legs. He picked her up and held her over his shoulder, her claws sinking through his shirt and tickling his skin. He walked through the lobby and to their room, cat firmly attached at the shoulder, and he found his father at the room's tiny desk, hunched over the map.

"You think she's not here in town?" Lloyd asked.

"I think we should keep searching for a few more days, but we should decide where to go next should she fail to turn up."

Lloyd pried the tabby from his shoulder and dropped her on the bed before positioning himself over his father's shoulder to get a good view of the old, crumpled map. He looked for any body of water around Asgard, a large river or an inlet. He scoured the land, but the only substantial smear of blue he spied was what appeared to be a large lake to the northeast. He lay a finger on it. "What's this?"

"That's Lake Umacy. I don't think she would've gone there."

"Why not?"

"Because around there was where… it's too close to the ranch. If she's not here, she must've gone to Hima, maybe. Or around Balacruf, perhaps. I suppose she'd stay away from the north, keep Luin at a distance. Or maybe she's all the way down south, gods, I don't know…" Kratos voice steadily degenerated into incoherent mumbles, and Lloyd left him alone with the map.

When he went to get food, he couldn't get the image of that crazy old artist out of his mind. It puzzled him how his mother could've convinced that old man to do her bidding. Maybe she had made him draw the picture, maybe she had drawn it herself and gave it to him for delivery. Lloyd didn't know. At this point he cared little. When he found her, she'd be able to answer all of those questions, and more.

He reentered their room to find Kratos still hunched over the map, tracing its contours with two fingers as a makeshift compass. Lloyd wondered how long it would take his father to notice he was missing when he ditched him the next day. Hopefully hours. But not likely. That man had senses that could put any animal to shame.

Lloyd reclined on the bed and reached over for his lute. When he pulled it on his lap and lay his fingers across the neck, the strings felt thin and taut against his skin. He looked it over before playing a few notes, sharp and crisp.

"One of your strings snapped when you were out," Kratos told him. "So I had someone put a new set on. I hope that's all right."

Lloyd didn't like the harshness of the tone—he preferred the softer, more oud-like vibrations of his previous set. "What did you do with the old ones?"

"I threw them out."

He struck a chord, and the sound that rang from his instrument seemed to cut the air. He tried playing a few melodies, but the sound had a forceful quality about it that left him thinking that his instrument was shouting rather than singing. He put it down.

"I think I'll turn in early," he said, but utterly failed to force himself to go to sleep. Even after his father blew out the lamp and sat in the darkness with him, he stayed awake, punishing himself. He scolded himself for not finding her, for staying with Kratos when he should've left, for getting himself caught up with Yuan and the Chosen and Cruxis and all of the forces of the world he did not understand. He cursed himself for not having enough strength to find his mother and keep her safe, he cursed all those nebulous organizations that had power over him.

"Are you all right?" his father's voice struck down his thoughts. "You're tossing around."

"I'm okay."

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need?"

Lloyd sat up. "I need you to leave me alone. I need you to stop asking me if I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm wonderful. Peachy as hell."

Kratos recoiled for a moment. After a few seconds he stood up and left the room, his exit marked by an awkward silence. He didn't come back till morning, and Lloyd was still awake, staring at the ceiling, plotting.

"I didn't find her last night," Kratos said. "But I'll continue today. There's breakfast in the lobby."

With that, he left, and Lloyd forced himself out of bed. He went out into the lobby and poked his head out the front, just to make sure his father wasn't in sight, before popping back into their room. He stuffed his clothes in his bag, grabbed his knives, strapped his lute over his shoulder, and almost as an afterthought, decided to steal the map. He slipped it into his bag and leaned down to say goodbye to the cat that sat in the doorway.

"See you, old girl," he said, scratching her ear. "Be good."

When he made his way through the lobby, all geared up, he considered telling the innkeeper to not tell his father that he'd left. He reconsidered, since Kratos would see the lute gone and know immediately. Lloyd would just have to be quick.

He slipped out of town with no trouble, and practically ran down the path toward the open, windy fields. When he was sure he was far enough away, he slowed to a brisk walk, pulled the straps of his pack tighter to him, and began to hum.

It almost felt nice to be alone again. He sometimes went alone out into the desert for days, just on a whim, and although his mother had confessed it made her worried, she hadn't stopped him. She probably understood what it meant for him to have the sort of freedom of movement he'd never had at the ranch. There was the aspect of privacy, too, that enticed him out into the vast sands, especially at night. He could lay down alone and look at the stars for silent hours.

Maybe when he found his mother again he could convince her to come out into the desert with him and look at them. It seemed natural to him to have a companion on his stargazing outings, although he didn't know why he thought that. Perhaps because, in rare, intense moments, when he would truly understand the scope of the sky above him, he would suddenly realize how alone he was in the vastness of existence. Those were the only times he felt lonely out under the night sky, and they didn't occur often.

No, he could make it alone. He had been alone at the ranch, and had survived until his mother found him. Now he could survive alone until he found her. Then they could go home.

He took lunch well away from the main thoroughfare, hidden in a small grove of apple trees. He would've preferred to sit under a different kind of fruit tree, but he acknowledged that beggars couldn't be choosers and pulled a few off the branches, hiding them in his sack for later.

He took the map from his bag and struggled with it for a while, trying to open it against the wind. When he finally got it open, he lay it across the grass, attempting to figure out where he was. He traced the road from Asgard north, trying to calculate how many miles he had come. He had not yet reached the House of Salvation, although he should be close. From there he would have to keep on going north, then branch off the main road. It didn't seem like there were many paths leading to the lake—he might have to improvise.

He thought if he could find his way through the featureless desert consistently, finding a lake would be easy enough. He folded the map and put it away. He stretched before setting off through the tall grass and back to the road.

He reached the House well before dark, so he skipped it entirely. It would be the first place his father would look when he finally realized his son was missing. Lloyd wondered if he knew by now, or if he was still scouring Asgard for Anna, all to no avail. He reveled briefly in the thought of his father searching in vain, though he didn't know why.

A few hours after the sun set, he came across a tiny dirt path that diverged from the main road. He followed it, hoping it might lead him to the lake, but at this point he wasn't sure. It hadn't appeared on the map, but it seemed to lead in the right direction.

A few miles along, the road disappeared entirely and left only a grassy plain. When Lloyd found himself without a footpath, he looked to the sky instead. He followed the usual shapes and markers northeast, praying that he would come across water soon. Not only would that bring him closer to Anna, but his flagon had run dry hours ago.

He kept walking until the grassy plains sloped upward into a dark forest. He slipped through the trees, one hand on a knife, just in case something stepped out at him. He wasn't displeased with the change of scenery, since it would make it more difficult for Kratos to find him. He released a sigh when he heard the distant trickle of water through the trees. He followed the sound, keeping an eye out for any stray predators, human or otherwise, until he came to a small creek winding its way through the woods.

He stopped and knelt by the water, splashing his face before filling his flagon, drinking from it and filling it again. He squatted there, trying to decide which direction he should take. He wasn't sure if this river came from some higher altitude and went to the lake, or if it went from the lake down to the ocean… Perhaps he should just continue going north and see where it took him. Then again, he might be on the west side of the lake and traveling north would take him right to the Asgard ranch…

Lloyd stood, propelled to his feet by a sudden sound behind him. He raised his knife and whipped around, backing into the best stance he could with his pack and lute on his back. He sighed and lowered his knife when he saw his father, leaning despondently against a tree, shaking his head.

"I thought you said you weren't going to run from me."

Lloyd sheathed his knife. "Yeah? I lied." He couldn't help sighing with both disappointment and a little relief. "I knew you'd find me anyway."

"I wouldn't blame you, if you ran," Kratos said.

"But you'd still follow me."

"It's not something I can help. I won't leave you alone until you're safe." Lloyd assumed Kratos meant both him and his mother.

"How did you find me?" Lloyd asked.

"You were quite interested in Umacy on the map last night. I supposed that's where you'd go."

"Am I close? I don't know which way to go from here."

"Follow me, then. I'm fairly sure your mother isn't in Asgard anyway."

"Yeah. Me too."

Kratos led the way, but his silence had a guilty self-effacement about it that Lloyd found a little uncomfortable. He wondered if it had anything to do with his short outburst the night before. Not willing to suffer through the awkward silence, he decided to attempt to remedy it. "It's not because I hate you," Lloyd said. "Why I ran, I mean. I'm not even sure I hate you anymore."

Kratos glanced over his shoulder at Lloyd but didn't stop or speak.

"It's because I know _el__á _won't come out with you around. She's running from me because she's running from you. So I'm never gonna find her while you're still with me."

"I see. Well, I can take care to hide myself, if you want."

Lloyd thought for a moment. "But then I'd be tricking her into coming back to me. I don't want to do that." He pulled his cloak tighter around him. "Besides, she knows when I'm being crafty. She can smell it."

"Then it appears we're at an impasse," his father said. "My presence is both necessary and detrimental." To Lloyd's surprise, Kratos let out a short laugh. "As usual."

They followed the river all the way out of the small patch of forest, into a clearing. At this point, no longer driven by the desire to outrun his father, Lloyd sat down on the grass and pulled some food from his bag.

"You seem tired," Kratos said. "We'll train in the morning."

Although Lloyd didn't look forward to having to use his exsphere the next day, he did feel oddly comforted by his father's presence. It surprised him to no end, but he had to admit he was almost glad to have him back.


	27. Lights on the Lake

Lloyd gasped awake. In the shadows of the trees, in the infinite darkness beyond the feeble flicker of the dying campfire, he saw faces. Dozens of faces, pale, soulless, nothing more than white blurs against the shady night. They floated above the ground like so many oval white specters.

Lloyd sat up, blinking to clear his eyesight. With increasing consciousness, the faces faded away, slipping back into the darkness. His heart still thumped against his ribcage, and his throat was still tight. He looked around, trying to see where the faces had disappeared, and scrambled for his knife.

His father sat against the nearest tree, cleaning his blade. He did not look up from his work.

"Kratos," Lloyd started. "Did you see those?"

"See what?"

Lloyd looked at his hand running along the blade's length, calmly, quietly, and realized he must've dragged his strange dream into his waking mind. He lay back down on his bedroll, heart still pumping wildly. "It was nothing."

Kratos set his blade by his feet and leaned forward. "Do you have nightmares often, Lloyd?" he asked.

"I used to. After we got out of the ranch. I'd dream about still being inside. But I haven't had any bad dreams for a long time. Not since…" he was about to say "the Renegade base" but figured his father didn't really need to know the details of his stay there.

"Would you like me to make you something to help you sleep?" Kratos asked.

"No, I'm good." Lloyd bunched the blankets around him again and closed his eyes. He didn't need to fend of his dreams anymore. He had his father sitting there, eternally vigilant, to keep him safe. He still didn't know if he could trust Kratos completely, but he could at least trust him to guard him during the night.

So he closed his eyes, instinctively scooting a little closer to his father, and managed to drift off again.

* * *

"Goddamn!" Lloyd hissed, rubbing his aching muscles. "You really upped the ante."

Kratos slid his sword back into its scabbard. "You're getting better, but you still have room for improvement. You won't get any stronger if I go easy on you."

"Yeah, but you don't have to take off my head."

"I'm just teaching you what you need to know to keep your head on your own shoulders, that's all."

Lloyd packed up his stuff, heaved a sigh and followed his father to the other side of the clearing. The exsphere quieted down on his hand, and he didn't bother to remove it. It had started to feel—he hated to admit it—natural, sitting on his skin. He was beginning to consider himself naked without it, but he would never say it out loud, especially to his father.

There still seemed to be a ways to go before they reached the lake, so Lloyd brought out his lute and fiddled with it for a while, trying on some western desert melodies. He was surprised with the result—inside the inn, the strings had sounded harsh and barren, but out here in the open wilderness, they sang with a brightness that his old ones had not. They seemed awake, more alive somehow, so he played an upbeat wedding tune. It sounded just right on the instrument.

"Hey, Kratos," he said, finishing up the melody. "When did you and _el__á _get married?"

"We never did. It just happened, that somewhere out in the wilderness, we started calling each other husband and wife."

Lloyd thought for a moment about bringing up Barra, and distressing his father a little with the possibility Anna had replaced him, but decided not to. It seemed like it might be a good way to get Barra killed… and he didn't particularly want to see his father upset. The man had been through enough already, Lloyd figured. Kratos certainly had an effective way of hiding his emotions, but Lloyd had learned to recognize the certain tilt of his head, the way he moved his eyes, that indicated he was concerned or distressed. Lloyd did the same thing—or at least that's what his mother had said.

"She doesn't remember, you know. About the day you cut off her arm. She says it's all blurry. Do you think if we told her about what really happened, she'd understand why you did it?"

"I don't know, Lloyd. I wouldn't expect her to. What I did was heinous in any circumstance."

"You didn't really have a choice, though."

Kratos stopped. "I did. I had a choice between you and her. I could've killed her to save you, I could've let you die and tried to save her. But I was a coward. I couldn't decide, so I tried to save you both. And look where it got you. Where it got all of us." Kratos glanced to the ground. "Sometimes I know in my gut I should've killed her and saved you."

"Don't say that," Lloyd hissed.

"Then at least you wouldn't have had to waste away your childhood in that despicable ranch. I could've grabbed you and made off with you, easily. But I didn't."

"Stop, Kratos." Lloyd gripped the neck of his lute so hard he was sure it would splinter.

"I assure you I won't make a mistake like that again."

"Just shut up." Lloyd pushed past him and stomped across the soft dirt until he calmed a little. "You can't change what you did to _el__á_ and me, Kratos. You can just focus on making it up to us by helping us find each other again."

"Of course. Forgive me." Kratos fell into step behind Lloyd and directed him toward Umacy. Lloyd picked up his song where he left off, plucking the ascending line as he walked up the slope toward the lake. When the water came into view, he jumped toward it, smiling at its clear, shining blue surface.

"It looks like the oasis back home," he said, instinctively dropping his things on the shore and immediately trying to take off his shoes.

Kratos sighed and watched him. "I suppose it's almost sunset. We can rest here a while and sweep the perimeter in the morning."

Lloyd had already taken his jacket and shirt off and waded halfway in the water. He hugged himself at the cold but steadily made his way in up to his waist. "Hey," he called back. "Come swimming."

"I'm fine, Lloyd."

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"You go ahead."

Lloyd fell back into the freezing blue water, clear as glass, and gasped. The refreshing chill soaked through him, shivering life back into his tired bones. He dunked his head and swam under the surface for a while, surveying the fallen wood and grey stones at the bottom. It was quite a more interesting body of water than the oasis, whose bottom comprised only sand, rocks, and a few coconut shells. He broke the surface and drew a deep breath, shivering.

"There's lots of stuff down there!" he called back to Kratos, who had decided to perch on a log and merely watch. Lloyd dove, wondering if someone had lost a gold watch or another little interesting machine he could play with. His fingers hadn't touched wires or screws for quite along time—they itched for some of that old mechanical tinkering. He scoured the bottom, looking for anything that glinted, and found nothing.

He thought he spied something furry, like an animal, sticking out from under a log, but it could've easily been some sort of pale lake weed. He kept his eye out for anything gold, silver, or shining, but nothing met his criteria except for a small school of sleek fish. He returned to the surface, dove again, and again, until the sun slipped behind tips of the tallest trees.

"Lloyd," his father called. "Come back out, your lips are blue."

"How can you even see them from all the way over there?" Lloyd shouted back, before diving again.

He turned on his back under the water and watched the sun set through the barrier of the surface. It hung distorted and green in the distant sky, but suddenly disappeared behind a close shadow. For a hallucinatory moment Lloyd was sure he had gotten himself stuck in the lake with a shark, but when he swam toward the surface, he saw that it was his father.

He was about to congratulate himself on convincing the stubborn killjoy to loosen up a little and come swimming, when he realized that his father's feet barely touched the surface. When Lloyd's head broke through, he looked up at Kratos, who appeared to be standing on the water, wings glowing. Lloyd tried to swim back under to avoid whatever punishment awaited him, but Kratos extended his arm and mouthed an incantation.

Water circled beneath Lloyd, grabbing his legs and lifting him forward, dragging him to the shore. He swung out his arms desperately to steady himself, tried to kick against the wave that wrapped around him and carried him, screaming, toward the sandy bank. By the time the thaumaturgical swell spat him back out on the shore, his father was by his side, kneeling, checking him.

Kratos seemed surprised to see his son laughing. "What was that, magic? It was… kinda fun."

"You're not hurt, are you? I tried to be gentle. You'll catch your death in that freezing water."

"Nah, I'm fine." The rapidly cooling air of the dry evening chilled him more than the lake water did. "Kinda cold, though. Where are my clothes?"

His father threw his shirt and jacket at him. "I'll build a fire." As Lloyd pulled his clothes back on, Kratos struck up a flame. "You didn't happen to catch any fish for your dinner, did you?"

"Ha, I'm quick, but not that quick. Still just rations for me."

"I brought some more food from Asgard. I actually… it took me a while to find them, but the day you ran off, I stopped and bought some of these."

Kratos dug through the pack and pulled out a small paper bag, handing it to Lloyd. He opened it and glanced inside. "What are they?"

"Candied walnuts. They used to be your favorite, you know… when you were small."

Lloyd took one out and pinched it between his fingers. "I don't remember these." He popped one in his mouth. "They're good, though. I had good taste."

"Gods, you did. Always begging for sweets. Chocolate, nuts, fruits, pastries—you had a particular taste for those fancy truffles, the ones that cost five hundred gald each. Your mother indulged you every time. I was worried you'd die of sugar poisoning."

"You sure worried a lot," Lloyd said, eating another candied walnut. Once he'd had one, he couldn't stop.

"I had to. It was your reckless mother. She'd disappear with you for hours at a time, and I'd find you both in the branches of some tree or on a roof or… gods. You know she used to play these cruel little tricks on you all the time—she'd give you a pinch of salt and say it was sugar, she'd cover herself in leaves and wait in the shadows to scare you… I don't now how, but she once convinced you that you had a bird living inside of your stomach, and it ate all of your food—that's why you were so hungry all the time." Kratos paused to rest his forehead in his hand. "She did this thing with an egg where she blew out the yolk and—"

"And cracked it on her head, I know. She told me about that one."

"I was always having to comfort you afterwards. But you'd forgive her so fast, and you'd start following her around more loyally than ever. It's almost as if you were in on all the jokes, and both you did it just to upset me."

"I guess we've been partners in crime for a while, huh?"

"Longer than you can even remember."

Lloyd began to shovel in the walnuts five at a time. "Where did you get these? They're so good."

"You can find them here and there at some grocers'. They're probably more common in confectioneries."

Lloyd felt as if something important, essential, was lost when he reached the bottom of the bag. "I gotta get me to a confectionery."

Kratos sighed. "I'll go find some more wood. Don't wander, you never know what's out there." He disappeared into the trees beside the lake, and Lloyd picked up his lute. This must've been close to where Anna had been taken to the ranch the first time, where she and her theater troupe had last been free together. Lloyd didn't know why she might've come here, if the place held nothing but bad memories for her.

He decided he couldn't see the stars well enough from his position under the trees. He took his lute and ascended a knoll by the lake, not too far from the fire. He sat down on the hill, watching the stars turn overhead, and their reflections turn equally as clearly on the surface of the still lake. He plucked at his lute, smiling.

He could almost feel her nearby. He knew he was close to finding her, so close she might be within earshot. So he strummed the bright, hard chords on his lute and sang out into the darkness. He sang in Trieti, so she'd know it was him.

"I see one sparrow, perched alone."

No answer came, so he continued.

"He's searched for his nest, all on his own."

Silence.

"Across sea and land he's flown."

Nothing.

"Now he calls into the dark, 'Mother, I'm home.'"

His song dissipated into the shivering trees and he sighed. Perhaps she wasn't around after all. If he knew his mother, she couldn't resist a good call-and-response. He lay down on his back again and watched the stars, sliding his fingers up and down the neck of his lute. He sat for a few minutes, aching, until he heard a sound behind him. He sat up and turned to see Kratos' shadow blot out the sky.

"You wandered."

"I did, but not too far."

Kratos stood still for a little while. "May I sit with you?"

"Sure." He sat beside his son, crossing his legs and raising his eyes to the silent spattering of stars in the distant black.

Something snapped into place in Lloyd's head. "We used to do this a lot, didn't we? Sit and stare at the sky."

"Yes. You loved it. You'd make me put you on my shoulders."

"Yeah, I thought that I would see everything better from up there." The floating sensation he got sitting on his father's shoulders, losing himself in the stars, sank through him, briefly. It was enough to make him bite his lip. "Whenever I'd go out on my own and stargaze, I'd always feel… well, content, but also like there was someone missing, you know? I'd sometimes get this sense of smallness, of… being kinda lonely. I think… without knowing it, I think I missed you."

Before Lloyd could react, his father's arm wrapped around him and tugged him close. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he said.

The lute sat awkwardly between them, pressing Lloyd in the stomach, but he couldn't pull out of the embrace. He had to hold his breath through the inelegant, prolonged but sincere hug, and it took a while before he could manage to croak, "You're gonna snap the lute."

"Oh." Kratos pulled away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lloyd smiled. "I guess you're gonna worry about everything anyway."

Kratos sighed. "Come back to the fire. We can practice your footwork in the light."

"Aw, come on," Lloyd said. "I'm full. I ate all those walnuts."

"Well, enemies don't care if you're full or not. Get up and come get your knives."

Lloyd groaned but pulled himself off the grass. He glanced behind him at the perfectly reflective lake before following his father back to the campfire.

* * *

"You know…" Lloyd started over breakfast. "I think _el__á _might make room for you in her life, if you show her you're worth her time." He'd been thinking about it the night before, turning the thought over in his head, painful as it was.

"That's the problem, Lloyd. I'm not worth her time. I do more harm than good, no matter what."

Lloyd chewed his stale biscuit. "Why did you work for Cruxis for so long? Why don't you just ditch them and come live a normal life, with… you know, other people? Not Desians, not whatever those angel-things are. Why don't you… just try to live with us, for a while?"

"I did that once, Lloyd. It didn't end well. You know where it got you. I don't want any of us to go through that again."

"It won't end like it did last time. We'll be more careful this time around. We can go to the other world, where they won't look for us."

Kratos sighed. "Lloyd, you don't understand how powerful these people are. Cruxis runs the Regeneration, it owns the Church, it controls both worlds, it controls technology—everything. They'll find us like they did before. They always get their way."

"What about the people fighting them? What about the Renegades?"

"Gods, Lloyd, I'd think after what Yuan did to you, you'd know to stay away from those bastards."

Lloyd frowned. "If the Renegades are bad, if Cruxis and the Church and the Desians and angels are all bad, who the hell is good?"

Kratos stood, glancing back down at Lloyd through narrowed lids. "No one."

"Not even you?"

"Not even me. Everyone is out for themselves, Lloyd—Cruxis, the Renegades, everyone. That's why you need to stay away from all of them. Find someplace quiet, live out your life, where they can't find you. You'll be better off for it."

Lloyd stood up and grabbed his lute, leaving the rest of his belongings at their small campsite. "Which way should I go?" he asked.

"You can take the west shore, I'll go this way," Kratos said. He slipped off into the woods, silent as a predator. Lloyd turned to his own shore, and walked along it, kicking up the dirt. He didn't see the point of wandering, actively looking for his mother. It seems she knew where he was—she always did, inexplicably—and she would come to them when she chose to. He knew that if she was anywhere around this lake, she would be watching him, and if she wasn't, she'd have left a message for him. He was getting used to this routine.

He plucked out a tune, walking along the shore, watching for his father on the other side, but there was no sign of him. He retreated from the water and wandered deeper into the woods. He listened carefully, but only heard the usual chorus of forest birds, the wind whispering through the trees, the trickling tiny streams wandering off from the main body of the lake.

Then an unnatural but familiar sound hit his ears: a foot crushing dirt beneath it. He turned, expecting his father, but saw no one.

"Kratos?" he asked the empty trees. He paused, hopeful. "_El__á_?"

"Lloyd." The reply forced a gasp from him. He whipped around as his mother, lean and ragged, emerged from the greenery and smiled at him. He dropped his lute and ran to her, arms outstretched. He barreled into her, picked her up and swung her around, laughing.

"I've missed you!" he said.

When he finally put her down, she caught her breath. "Missed you too, love. But now's not the time. We need to get out of here before your father hears us."

"It's all right. He's…" Lloyd looked behind him, almost expecting Kratos to emerge from the trees.

"He's probably already on his way," Anna said. "Come on." She tugged at Lloyd's sleeve, but he stood his ground.

"_El__á_, wait just a moment." She looked at him like he'd said something heinous. "We should wait for him."

"What?"

"He's… I don't think he's the same as you remember him."

"Lloyd, that's how he tricks you. He acts contrite and concerned, but he's plotting, always, he's plotting."

"No, _el__á_."

Anna squeezed his arm, and he looked down at her thin, worn hand. He grabbed it and held her there for a moment. She looked so tired, so frail, in her worn dress, with her thin hair pulled back. Her face had a few smudges of dirt, and he wondered how long she had been out here, roughing it, waiting for him. Her eyes wandered down to his hand, lying on hers, and she frowned.

"Did he force you to wear an exsphere?" she asked.

"No. I wear it because I need it." He squeezed her hand. "To protect you."

"Lloyd…" She examined him. "I saw you, with him. Talking with him, eating with him. Do you trust him?"

Lloyd nodded. "I had to, in order to find you. And he hasn't done anything bad to me. He's helped me." Lloyd turned her toward the lake, and cautiously started walking her back to their camp. "He bought me candied walnuts."

"You used to love those," Anna said, still unsure.

"Turns out I still do."

"Well, I'll be sure to buy you some later."

They walked through the woods, arm in arm, to the edge of the lake. Lloyd led her down to the water, still unwilling to let her go, and sat on a log.

"I heard you singing," she said. "I was on the other side of the lake, listening. I wanted to run to you, really I did, but he was there… I was afraid to." She put her hand over her face. "It's embarrassing, but I was afraid."

"I thought you weren't afraid of anything," Lloyd said.

"I like to tell myself that. But I am."

"I don't think you need to be afraid of him, _el__á_."

"I'll try not to be." She lay her head on Lloyd's shoulder. "But this old woman has some old habits."

"I was scared of him too, at first. He's kind of a weird guy." Lloyd paused, looking into the water. "But he grew on me."

Anna sighed. "I don't know, Lloyd. I still think the best thing we can do is get going, find somewhere far away from him and his… ilk."

"You mean Cruxis?"

"Yes."

"He saved me from them, you know. After the Renegades… ah, forget it. It's been a long few weeks."

"For me, too. When I heard the sirens in Palmacosta I rushed down to the prison, but they'd already broken the wall. I knew you were either in their clutches, or you'd escaped and were looking for me. I was so afraid that they'd taken you back to Kvar, I started making my way to the Asgard ranch, so I could break you out. But I left some messages for you, just in case you managed to escape them."

"I got them. How did you convince people to leave messages for me?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised at what a kind word or polite action can do, Lloyd. I did a favor for a stranger here and there. One of them was an old friend from my glory days. You no doubt were accosted by an… interesting fellow in Asgard? The artist?"

"Yeah."

"He did all the promotional posters for _Isabella _when it came to Asgard. He's a very talented man. Eccentric, though. He recognized me right away, since he'd drawn my face so many times. We had a nice chat about the good old days, and he let me stay with him for a while. That's when I caught a glimpse of you with your father at the entrance to the city. I was so happy you weren't at the ranch, I wanted to come out and greet you, but he was there. I thought he was probably following you to get to me, so I asked my friend for a quick favor, and got out of there."

"I'm just glad I found you. I'm sorry it took so long. I'm a little dumb."

"You're cleverer than you think, Lloyd. You should learn to give yourself more credit."

Lloyd rubbed the back of his neck. "Aw, nah. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

"Me too. Gods, I'm so happy you're okay." She tousled his hair.

Lloyd smiled at her and squeezed her hand. She stared into the lake for a while, gaze swallowed by the blue water. "I suppose we ought to go greet your father. If you want me to." She seemed reluctant.

"We don't have to," Lloyd said. "Not yet. We can dip our feet in the water for a while. It'll be just like the oasis at home."

Anna smiled. He'd waited so long to see that smile again. "All right."

She stood and kicked off her shoes. Lloyd followed suit, but as he stood, he heard the rustling of bushes behind him. He turned, hoping it wasn't his father, here to interrupt their reunion. What he found made him backtrack desperately on that hope.

Lloyd stepped back, retreating toward the water, eyes fixed on the figure that emerged from the brush. He drew his knives, and as Anna heard the unmistakable ringing of metal, she turned, ankle-deep in water. They both stood deathly still, staring. Lloyd's legs flexed in readiness, his heart jumped into his throat, his body told him to run, just run, never stop, grab his mother and sprint in the opposite direction. He shook, his knives rattled in his hands, but he forced himself to stand his ground.

Kvar, emerging fully from the shadows, lowered his staff and looked Lloyd over. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he said. A few more guards stepped from the underbrush, armed with rifles, and Lloyd's eyes darted from their guns, to Kvar, back to their guns. He didn't think he'd have the time to cut the Desian lord down before they shot him. He entertained the thought, though.

"What do you want?" Anna appeared beside Lloyd, one hand at the small of his back, steadying him. He stopped shaking.

"Take a wild guess," Kvar laughed. Lloyd glanced at his henchmen, trying to figure out which one would come at him first if he attacked Kvar. Surely they wouldn't dare shoot him, not with his mother, their precious Angelus Project, standing so close to the line of fire.

"You're not taking her," Lloyd growled, knives glinting. His mother said nothing, merely stood beside him, hand on him.

Kvar smiled, lips curling back over white teeth. It was the most infuriating grin Lloyd had ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Something about it—the smugness, the sadism, the sheer conceit—made Lloyd snap. He let out a quick breath before lunging at Kvar, knives swinging.

His mother reached out an arm to stop him, but she was too late. He already reached the Desian, blades pointed at his neck, swinging wildly. Kvar calmly stepped aside, lifting his weapon to parry. Lloyd's desperate strokes slid harmlessly over the smooth staff—even when he aimed for Kvar's fingers, they deftly moved out of the way. No matter how he swung, no matter how his exsphere burned and surged, he could not penetrate Kvar's defenses.

The other Desian soldiers, shortly after Lloyd attacked, raised their rifles. Kvar commanded them to stand down, preferring instead to take him on his own. "So, the weak little boy has become a weak little man, I see," he said, circling Lloyd. "I remember when you were just a child, hungry enough to eat an apple core."

Lloyd thrust at him wordlessly, and the staff flew up to meet him. Kvar's smile lay just on the other end of that weapon, waiting for Lloyd to cut it from his face. But he never could. Kvar swung his staff around, faster than Lloyd could see, and smacked him on the side of the head. Lloyd's world went blurry, he clutched his head, and made the mistake of dropping his defenses. The butt of the staff drove into his stomach, knocking the air from him and forcing him to double over in pain. The strong strike to his back left him on the ground, gasping for air.

"That was disappointing," Kvar said, raising the staff again. He thought he heard his mother cry out.

Then his father was there, at Kvar's side, sword pointed at the Desian's throat. Kvar froze, weapon still raised, henchmen's guns still pointed at Lloyd.

"You touch him again and I'll slit your throat," Kratos said simply.

Kvar lowered his staff, smile decreasing in width but failing to disappear altogether. Lloyd struggled to his knees, and his mother knelt beside him, reaching out to him. She held him about the waist, as if she could still protect him. He hadn't the time nor heart to tell her he wasn't a tiny child anymore, that he should be guarding her and not the other way around. He just shakily rose to his feet, Anna beside him.

Lloyd looked at Kratos, at his long, glinting sword resting on Kvar's neck, and mentally encouraged him to just get it over with. He was in the perfect position to end it all right here, right now, and his hesitation forced Lloyd's heart to sink.

"You are to leave him alone," Kratos said, and to Lloyd's surprise and dismay, Kvar nodded.

"I'm a man of my word, Kratos. Don't fear for him. I was merely teaching him a lesson."

Lloyd looked at Kratos, then Kvar, then back to Kratos. "What are you doing?" he asked, but Kratos' eyes focused on the grass at his feet. He tried to catch his father's gaze, and found that his father had retreated into some sanctuary within himself. Lloyd desperately tried to come up with any justification for his father not cutting Kvar's head off where they stood. To his abject horror, Kratos lowered the sword, and Kvar was again free.

"Take her," was all the Desian said, before the guards stepped toward Lloyd and his mother, guns raised. She stepped back instinctively toward the water, and Lloyd's gaze focused on his father.

So. She had been right all along. As Lloyd stared at Kratos' downcast eyes, and the guilty expression on his face, he knew. He knew his father had sold them out again. Before he could curse himself for trusting the man, before he could even blame himself in any way, his knives jumped to his hands, almost supernaturally, and he stepped toward Kratos, blades raised.

When he lashed out at his father, Kvar merely stood back, admiring the spectacle as one might admire a sport. Lloyd's knives flew at Kratos, faster and harder than ever, his heart twisting. Any words he might try to sputter caught in his throat and died. He just swung at his father, mindless and enraged. Kratos slipped back, avoiding his blows, waiting until Lloyd hesitated to draw his sword in defense.

Lloyd wanted to shout any insult he could at his father, tear him down, but he didn't have the breath. He could only focus on slipping past Kratos' impenetrable defenses, but even that proved worthless. His knives rang harmlessly off Kratos' sword, and it started to feel like a particularly unhelpful bout of combat training, until Kratos decided to finish it.

He blocked Lloyd's immediate double-strike with his longsword, and lifted his knee to catch him in the chest. Lloyd's breath promptly left him, and he found his strength follow shortly after. His father finished the fight as he usually did—a strong strike with the flat of his sword. Lloyd collapsed in pain, holding his stomach, cursing.

He glanced up to see two Desians flank his mother, and tried to struggle to his feet. When Anna reached out to him, calling his name, he scrambled for his fallen knives, swearing that the would save her, that it would all be all right…

Kratos' foot met his shoulder and he again collapsed. He lay in the grass, in partial shock and utter defeat, as Kvar led his mother away at gunpoint. He could barely make out his voice as they retreated into the forest. "We have a lot to catch up on, Anna."

Lloyd let out a desperate holler and trembled to his knees, but there Kratos stood, between him and his mother, an impassable wall. He again pressed his foot to Lloyd's shoulder and forced him back into the dirt.

"Wh… why…" Lloyd managed to mutter, before his sight went so grey he could barely make out the figure of his father standing above him.

"Remember when I said I would do anything to keep you out of the ranch?"

Lloyd didn't answer. With one hand on his injured stomach, with another on his agonized head, he could barely look up. He was fading, fast.

"Go back to the desert. Live out your life."

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the silhouette of his father turning away from him, stepping off into the forest, after Kvar.


	28. IV: Blame

IV: The Desian Markswoman

* * *

He thought he smelled an animal, he thought he heard panting, the crunch of soil beneath feet. The whisper of the trees in the wind seemed so loud to him—all he wanted to do was reach up and cover his ears, to shut out the sound that rattled his brain, but he couldn't lift his arms. He couldn't move, he lay in a semi-conscious state of paralysis.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, how many creatures of the woods crept up to him, investigated him, and then moved on. His head throbbed, he slipped in and out of consciousness, just trying to keep on breathing. He was sure he was in some state of death, but he wasn't sure exactly where he was or how he had managed to get there.

He felt something on his face, fingers grabbing his chin and turning his aching head around. He couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes, but he managed to groan.

A woman's voice floated in the ether somewhere above him, soft but deep. "Looks like he's been smacked around a bit, but he'll be fine." Something slipped under him—hands, under his shoulders, grabbing him. He tried to struggle, but he didn't know why. "We should get him out of here before Kvar's men come back."

The name rang through his mind like a siren. He twitched, trying to open his eyes, telling himself to get up, just get up and run, but the best he could do was let out an ineffectual moan before the darkness of sleep fell over him again.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, it was dark. He struggled to clear the blur of sleep, and he could make out the glow of a fire, the shadowy movement of figures walking around it. He tried to lift his arms so he could rub his eyes and cradle his agonized head, but he found he couldn't move them. His shoulders ached, his back hurt, and when he tried to roll over, he found his hands stuck behind his back, pinned uncomfortably under him.

He groaned, turning on his side, slowly lifting himself out of the dirt. He blinked, coughed, and managed to sit up. As he sat shaking his head, trying to coax full consciousness back into himself, the figures by the fire slowly came into focus. They turned and looked at him, and he squinted back, trying to make out their faces.

"Might as well get the Lieutenant," one of them said. He stood up, and Lloyd could see the glint of armor on him. He didn't have his helmet on, but Lloyd could recognize the uniform of a Desian foot soldier when he saw one.

His heart started to race, and his eyes darted into the darkness beyond the fire. He looked around for an escape route, struggling to sit up. Hands still tied behind him, he stumbled forward on his knees, preparing to sprint out into the darkness.

The remaining Desian by the fire merely reached down into his boot and pulled a pistol, firing it twice by Lloyd's head. Lloyd ducked, heart stopping, legs shaking. He knelt in the dirt, not daring to move with the gun pointed at him. The Desian's eyes met his own, and they stood locked in each other's stares for a few seconds, before his partner returned with the helmeted Lieutenant.

"He tried to make a break for it, but I discouraged him," the Desian with the gun said.

"Not that I can blame him," the Lieutenant replied. Lloyd recognized hers as the voice he had heard in his half-conscious agony. She removed her helmet, shaking out her shock of silvery short hair, and looked him over. He stared back at her, awed at the intelligent light in her eyes, and her slight smile. She had an air of nobility about her that he had never seen in a Desian.

"You may seat yourself by the fire, if you wish," she told him. He narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced back to the Desian with the gun, still pointed at his chest. Slowly, he walked up to the fire, not daring to take his eyes off her, and sat down on a stump. She gave her helmet to the man next to her and sat opposite him, folding her hands and laying her chin across them.

"May I call you Lloyd?"

"How do you know my name?" He knew it was a stupid question to ask at this point.

"We mostly know you as L033 around Desian circles. If you prefer, we can use your number."

"No, not that." He had not heard his number in a so long, the sound of it seemed foreign to him. Frightening, even.

"Very well then. I suppose you want to know why we've decided to keep you for company."

Lloyd looked at the Desians, fists clenching behind him. "I'm assuming you're gonna take me to a ranch. If you do…" he paused. "Take me to Kvar's. At least let me be with my mother." Even saying it drew something of a choked sob from him. He lowered his eyes, trying to hide their watery sheen, and stared into the fire.

"We're not taking you to any ranch, Lloyd. You don't have to worry about that."

"Then why…" he tried gesturing, but only managed to wiggle his shoulders a little bit. "Why all this? Why not let me go?"

The Lieutenant almost laughed. "Because you have something we need."

Lloyd looked her over. "You're not Renegades, are you?"

"Of course not."

Lloyd was almost relieved. If Yuan tried to use him to get to his father, well, good luck to him. Obviously Kratos did not care. Lloyd had trusted him, he had told him everything, and he had screwed him over. He'd taken his mother from him, he'd handed her over to Kvar. Gods, Lloyd almost thanked the Desians for tying his hands, or else he'd be punching himself to a pulp.

The Lieutenant leaned down, trying to catch his eye with hers, watching his expression change and contort. "Lloyd," she said, sternly, and he brought his attention back to her. "I know you've had it rough. I know that right now you're very confused, and most likely a little upset."

Lloyd snarled. "You think so? My own father just stole my mother away and sent her to die."

The look the Lieutenant gave him was stern but sympathetic. He'd never expected to see such an honest expression adorning a Desian officer. "We know what your father has done. We're well aware of his crimes, all four thousand years of them. And we want to take him down."

Lloyd glanced at her, gears turning in his head. If these guys weren't Renegades, then Lloyd wasn't sure what they were. Maybe they were some other offshoot of the Desian factions, turning against their own. He didn't really care. "If I help you, will you get my mother out of the ranch?" he asked.

The Lieutenant seemed to be thinking, intelligent bluish eyes lowered to the ground. "It's likely that her freedom will be an upshot of our success. But that is in the far future. Kvar's ranch has too tight of security for us to break in—especially now that A012 is in his custody."

"Don't call her that." Lloyd bit his tongue, half expecting to be shot for the outburst. The Desian with the gun twitched it at him, but the Lieutenant seemed unfazed.

"I apologize. You understand that your mother is quite infamous for her escapes. She may be a free woman again, if you'll only help us."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to get me the Angelus Project. Word has it, you know where it is."

"You mean the exsphere my mother made?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"It would be something akin to treason to reveal to a prisoner the intimate details of our plans, but I assure you we will put it to good use."

"Why should I help you? After all you've done, to me, to the world?"

"I understand why you would hesitate, truly I do. But just be assured that should we succeed, there will be no human ranches. We will dismantle Cruxis from the top down, and destroy the institutions it has put in place." She looked deep into Lloyd's hesitant face, picking him apart. "If you help us, you will never have to worry about Desians again."

Lloyd flinched. Her speech had been almost identical in sentiment to the one Yuan had given him, back in the desert, before he betrayed him and pointed a blade at his throat. His father, too, had convinced him that it was for his own good to follow him. It was just like Barra and Ezra had said so long ago, and what his mother repeated many times: he really was easy to trick.

"I don't believe you," he said. "I'm not going to help you."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But if I can't convince you to come to our side of your own free will, we're just going to have to remind you that my subordinate here has his pistol aimed at your head. Any sign of disobedience will result in a bullet through your skull."

Lloyd gulped.

"I would highly recommend cooperating with us, Lloyd. If you're dead, there will be no one left to save your mother."

"What do you care about her?"

The Lieutenant sighed. "I'll be honest with you. We don't care about her. We do, however, care about what she created. We're merely using her to incentivize you to work with us so we may have a better chance of destroying Cruxis. Saving your mother is just a bonus, for you. We have very similar goals, you see. Yours are more personal. Ours are for the good of our entire race."

Lloyd looked from her, to the gun, back to her. "You think Cruxis is bad for half-elves?"

The Lieutenant nodded. "It's detrimental to everyone."

Lloyd shook his head. "I don't want anything to do with this. I just want to go home. Take her home." His breath came ragged and shallow. His exhales sounded embarrassingly like sobs, and he tried to choke them down.

The Lieutenant stood, brushing dust off her uniform. "I know it's difficult. But you will be reunited with her, if you work with us. You will get to go home. I'm afraid I don't have proof of this, however. You will have to trust us."

"How can I?"

"You figure that out. For now, we will keep an eye on you for the night. In the morning, you might feel a little more inclined to assist us." She turned and walked back to her tent, her right hand man following closely behind.

Lloyd stared at the Desian with the gun, still pointed at him, for a good ten minutes before he lay back down on the ground. He turned around, keeping his back to the fire and the pistol. He curled up, trying not to let himself cry, and tried to sort through his circumstances.

He thought he'd be more surprised that his father had betrayed him. But old habits died hard. He should've seen it coming. Gods, he shouldn't have been so gullible. And here he was, tied up at gunpoint, demanding himself to trust this group of rogue Desians with some harebrained plot to overthrow Cruxis. But the Lieutenant had been brutally honest with him, which was more than he could say about anyone else who had betrayed him. Yuan had been cryptic and silent, and his father had told him all sorts of lies, he was sure.

He closed his eyes, seemingly only for a minute, but when he opened them again, it seemed a few hours had passed. He looked over his shoulder to see that the Lieutenant had let her comrade sleep and now kept watch. She sat by the fire, holding the gun absentmindedly. Her eyes were not focused on him but on an open book in her lap, one of the largest he'd ever seen. He was suddenly filled with that embarrassed admiration he always felt when he saw someone read. He sat up, suddenly fully awake.

"Your turn to watch me?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, not willing to take her eyes off the yellowed pages. "It's standard procedure, but I don't think you're going to run away."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you're desperate. If I turn out to be lying, and take you to the ranch, it will increase the likelihood of seeing your mother again. If I'm telling the truth, then it also increases the odds of your reunion—albeit under more happy circumstances." She looked away from her book and up at him. "I can't profess to know the inner-workings of the human mind, but I can take a guess."

Lloyd crossed his legs, arms numb from being stuck behind him for so long. As she returned to her reading, he got a good look at her. Her bright eyes scanned the pages faster than he could follow, and her silver hair fell to one side haphazardly, sticking out in all places like no helmet could truly tame it.

"You don't look like a Desian," he told her, and she glanced up.

"Don't I? I'm playing the part well enough, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, but you don't seem like their kind. I've never seen one with a book before. So I'm guessing they don't read much."

"That is, unfortunately, too true." She seemed to wish to end the conversation there.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"You're just full of queries, aren't you?"

He shrugged.

"I'm reading a text on ancient Tethe'allan monuments."

"Tethe'alla… so it really does exist."

"Of course. I already assumed you would've been informed of that."

"My… um, Kratos told me about it when he was traveling with me."

"I see."

"Are you going to take me there?"

"To Tethe'alla? Gods, no. I would rather not go back there. If you knew the plight of half-elves over on that side, you wouldn't blame me." Lloyd wanted to pry further, but she continued in earnest. "We're taking you wherever you tell us. Wherever you think will lead us to the Angelus Project. We're a free unit. We've been given simple orders."

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably. "So you're not alone."

"Of course not. You think three Desians could stand up to Cruxis alone?"

He mulled over the fact that they were apparently not affiliated with the Renegades. "So… which Cardinal?"

"What?"

"Which Cardinal do you work for?"

She closed her book, narrowing her eyes at him with intense interest. "I never said I worked for any Cardinal."

Lloyd matched her stare. It had been a wild guess, but the interest it piqued in her told him that he'd been close when he assumed the one to turn against Cruxis had been high in their ranks. It seemed like a common theme, especially among powerful regimes. And, considering the things he'd heard about Kvar and Forcystus constantly being at each other's throats, it wouldn't surprise him to find out they were fighting amongst themselves. Obviously these loners didn't work for Kvar. There were only four other Cardinals, three of whom he knew by name.

He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "They're always fighting—even the prisoners know that. Even the kids do." He looked at her face for any sign of agreement. She only smiled an oracular, unreadable smile. "So, which one is it?"

"I wouldn't mind telling you, but I'm not so sure you're trustworthy. After all, you don't trust us, either."

Lloyd fought the urge to swear at her. "Fair enough," he said.

She left it at that and turned back to her book, eyes darting across the pages. He liked the sound of the page turning—it reminded him of nights back home, when Anna read for hours after dark, close to the lamplight while she thought Lloyd slept. Even in Palmacosta, when they were both overworked and perpetually exhausted, she found the time to read late at night.

"It's in Palmacosta," Lloyd said.

The Lieutenant looked up from her reading. "The Angelus Project?"

Lloyd nodded. "It's under a floorboard in our old apartment. In the immigrant district."

She closed her book with a sigh. "That's the last place I wish to visit again, but so be it. Tomorrow we leave for Palmacosta."

A few minutes later, after they had both fallen into silence, one of the other Desians came to relieve her of guard duty. "Lieutenant Sage, I'll keep watch until morning."

She stood, nodding to Lloyd knowingly, before retreating into her tent. Lloyd stayed awake until morning, unable to force himself to sleep, but did not converse with the Desian that kept watch.

By morning he'd convinced himself he was some sort of traitor. A traitor to his mother, to his race, to himself. When they un-cuffed him in the morning and fed him some cold beans, he didn't run. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the glint of a gun pointed at him, and he tried to ignore it.

He was already helping them, gods knew why. His mother would be furious if she saw him now, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He knew she'd rather have him keep bad company than be sent back to her in a body bag. But he could not stop himself from apologizing to her, over and over in his head, for everything.

He should never have trusted his father. He should never have trusted Yuan. He should've stayed away from the Chosen, he should've avoided this situation altogether. He should've killed his father when he'd had a chance—he should've stabbed him again, slit his throat, something. Infinite scenarios in which things turned out differently played and replayed in his mind, and he torturously dragged himself past every fork in his history where he could've—and should've—made a better decision than he had. But "should've" was merely a suggestion that came too late. There was nothing he could do now, but lead these rogue Desians toward Palmacosta, in the vague hope that he might see his mother again.

Lieutenant Sage took the lead, and he walked behind her, her two nameless henchmen falling behind, silently keeping the gun focused on the back of his head. He could almost feel it aimed at him, and every once in a while it would send shivers down his spine.

"Did you save any of the stuff that was with me?" he couldn't help asking her.

One guard shouted at him to shut up, but the Lieutenant turned and commanded him to do the same. He quieted down, mumbling to himself.

"What do you mean, 'Stuff?'" she asked.

"Like… my lute, mostly. I had an instrument with me when I… when my father…"

"No. But it's not a necessity. You'll survive without it, I'm sure."

"I'm not so sure," he muttered, but she didn't hear him.

When they stopped for the night, the Lieutenant invited him to join them around the fire, much to the chagrin of her underlings.

"Lieutenant Sage, I'm not sure if this is appropriate… to accommodate a prisoner like a guest," one said.

"Oh, rest assured, it's not," she answered, and offered Lloyd a plate. He took it silently, still a little suspicious this would all turn into some humiliating ploy. It was an awkward, unnecessarily protracted meal, but he managed to keep everything down. When they tied his hands for the night and told him to lie by the fire, he did so with a full stomach, a luxury he usually did not enjoy in the presence of Desians.

Lieutenant Sage took first watch. And watch she did—she apparently noted Lloyd's every twist and turn of his uncomfortable body, every sigh he released in response to his uncomfortable mind.

"You're having trouble sleeping," she said matter-of-factly.

Lloyd couldn't fathom why this statement would be helpful to him. He rolled over and looked at her, awkwardly navigating his bound arms. The image of his father standing over him, asking why he couldn't sleep, flashed through his mind, and he clenched his fists behind his back. "My arms are uncomfortable."

"Of course they are. But we can't let you sleep out of those cuffs until we all agree you can be trusted. We don't. So you're going to have to live with it."

Lloyd took a deep breath. "You know, I'm wanted in Palmacosta. As soon as we get into the city, they'll be a mob there to kill me."

"Oh, we're well aware of your situation. The murder of a Chosen is news that is wont to travel."

"I didn't do it, though," he said.

"I know you didn't. But that doesn't matter. You're still being blamed for it. But you'll have ample protection when we enter the city."

"You and your two lackeys? Really?" Lloyd laughed. "Obviously you haven't seen a Palmacostan mob before."

She glared at him, and he shut his mouth. "We're meeting another unit on the road. We'll escort you through the city to your apartment, or wherever it was you've hidden the exsphere."

He leaned back, watching the fire, as she read on, interrupted only by the annoying buzzing of what Lloyd assumed was some sort of communicator. She pulled it out, frowning at it, pressed a few buttons, shook it, then lay it beside her. "Damn thing," she said.

It began screeching in response, whirring like it was the end of the world. It panicked, vibrating and beeping, and she groaned.

"Hey, let me look at that," Lloyd said.

She glanced up at him, incredulous. "You think you can fix it?"

He shrugged, and she sighed. She put aside her book, picked up the screeching communicator, and un-cuffed him, and pushed the little thing into his palm. She sat back down on the other side of the fire, watching him.

His fingers searched the device for any cracks or crevices or buttons that would open it up. He found none, but it wasn't very well put together, so he was able to pry apart the two plastic casings with his fingernails. When he looked at each half of the tiny device, vibrating feebly, he saw the problem, pinched it between his fingers, and closed the communicator back up. When he handed it back to her, it was silent, green light pulsing lazily.

"Easy fix," he said.

"Indeed it was," she said, looking the device over. "You have a knack."

"I just need something for my hands to do. I get bored otherwise."

The Lieutenant sighed and dangled the cuffs from her finger. "I'm afraid you're going to be very bored all night, then."

* * *

Lloyd's boredom, punctuated only by brief interludes of despair and panic, lasted all the way past Hakenosia, south of the forests that dotted the mountains, and to the main road leading to Palmacosta.

They weren't yet to the House of Salvation when it started pouring. Lieutenant Sage stood outside her tent while they set up camp, hand outstretched, looking disgusted at the droplets that gathered on her palm. It was too wet to build a fire, so when one guard sat down to watch him for the night, he sat under the rain fly of his tent and desperately tried to light a cigarette. Lloyd watched the fame flicker and die in the wind dozens of times before the Desian finally gave up. He instead looked up at the dark grey sky, seeming to count the drops that fell on his head.

The Lieutenant stood in the flap of her tent, arms crossed, watching Lloyd. He looked over at her, slowly soaking, and a shiver ran through him. She sighed. "You can return to your tent for the night," she told the guard. "I'll keep an eye on him." She motioned for him to come inside, and he carefully pulled himself to his feet, following her into her tent.

He sat down in the middle of the tent, looking at her bedroll, her foldable desk, the books she'd unpacked. It took some imagination to come up with a way she could fit all this into her pack. Lloyd supposed she wasn't the one who struggled with this stuff every morning. After all, her two henchmen were tasked with carrying most of the baggage.

A small electric traveling stove sat on her desk, a pot of water slowly heating above it. When the Lieutenant was finished zipping up the tent's flap, she locked the mechanism. He tried to look over her shoulder to see if the zipper was still maneuverable, but it looked like if he wanted to escape, he'd have to slice a hole through the tent's side. The only sharp object in the tent was a small pen on the Lieutenant's desk and his own teeth, neither of which he thought he could use without waking her up.

She watched the water boil for a minute, then removed it from the hot curl of the tiny stove, fishing through her bag. She pulled out one cup, filled it halfway, glanced at him and then filled another. She poured a packet of powder into each one, then removed a nondescript silver bottle from her sack, pouring a dash in each cup.

She had to remove his cuffs before she could hand the cup to him. He sat on the floor, holding the scorching mug between his hands, watching the steam whirl. He took a sip, coughed, made a face at the bitter, burning taste of alcohol. "Strong," he said.

"It'll put you to sleep," she replied, sitting opposite him. "We all need some help resting sometimes."

He looked her over. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I owe you a favor since you fixed my communicator. You haven't tried anything suspicious. You've given us the information we need. You've been a model prisoner, so I have no reason to be cruel. Unless I find out you're lying and the Angelus Project isn't in Palmacosta, but we'll worry about that when we get there."

He took another sip, throat burning. "You really aren't like any of those other Desians," he said.

"How would you know?"

"I've met plenty. They always smile a certain way, when they know you're suffering. You don't, though. You have a different look about you." At this point he wasn't certain if he was being sincere or merely sucking up to her to increase his chances of being let go. "You aren't sadistic."

The look she gave him stopped his thoughts in their tracks. "Oh, I'm plenty sadistic." A bead of sweat congealed on his forehead, and as it dripped past his eye, he knew he had pegged her all wrong. He instinctively took another swig for comfort, then choked on the thought that she'd poisoned it.

She watched him intensely, marking his every move. He could see her eyes picking him apart, predatory, too sharp for comfort. He looked down into his cup, considering making a break for it. He wondered if he could throw himself at the tent wall hard enough to rip through the cloth. She seemed to be pleased with the sort of fear she instilled in him, and crossed her legs, smiling.

"Finish up," she commanded. "You don't like it?"

"I do—it's fine. It's just strong, is all."

"You're lucky I'm not feeding you. I can make a decent hot toddy but my cooking is murder. The only reason I have assistants at all is to wash my clothes and cook for me."

Lloyd just took another sip, not sure what to say.

The Lieutenant finished her drink and poured herself another. Lloyd couldn't imagine another helping—just the first was making his head swirl. He finished it quickly, just to get it over with, and handed her back the cup. She set it on her desk and watched as he lay down on the floor. "We should get to Palmacosta by the afternoon tomorrow. Are you prepared to return there?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Well, you'd better be by tomorrow," she said. "Or else there's no telling how it'll turn out."

Lloyd tried to figure out if her words implied a threat or not. He just lay on his back, listening to the patter of rain on the tent's sloping top. He closed his eyes, and found that the Lieutenant's concoction practically dragged him off to sleep.

* * *

"I have to stop and throw up," Anna said. When she slowed, the sharp prod of a rifle's cylinder kept her stumbling forward.

"You do it on your own time," Kvar said from up front. "Keep moving."

Anna looked to her husband, walking beside her with his slow, deliberate stride. A new wave of nausea overcame her, but she didn't have the decisiveness to simply lean over and vomit on the grass. Kratos looked down at her and her heart skipped a beat. She could not tell if his glance was cold or merely hopeless.

She had tried to warn Lloyd. She had tried to tell him not to trust the man, to run while he could, but he hadn't listened. He had always been a stubborn, naive boy. And now he was gods knew where, eaten by wolves, dead of his injuries, or coming after them. Each situation she hypothesized for him was worse than the last. She wondered why Kratos did not stay behind to finish him off, or at least bring him with them.

A part of her was thankful. Evidently the Desians were not interested in him, at least at this juncture. But a deeper, more selfish part of her wanted nothing but to be with him, even if that meant suffering in the ranch together. She scolded herself for letting herself even think about it.

When they stopped to rest for the night, Anna sat against a tree, her husband keeping watch while Kvar and his men took dinner. They didn't bother tying her—Kratos would subdue her if she got feisty, she was sure.

He brought her some food, and offered it to her, unsurprised that she refused. She looked up at him, his taut mouth, his lifeless eyes, and grimaced.

"I told him, you know," she said, and he looked down at her. "I told him not to trust you."

"So did I," Kratos said simply.

Anna sighed, wishing she could sink into the bark, turn hard and die inside the tree trunk, petrified forever. At least then she wouldn't have to feel anything. "We both should've seen it coming from a mile away. We should've run, when we had the chance. But then I suppose you'd have come after us."

"I'm afraid so."

She clenched her remaining hand into a fist. "So, did you enjoy your time with our son?"

"Immensely."

"He told me you bought him candied walnuts."

"I did."

Anna looked up at him, at his pale face. She watched his mouth twitch into a half-smile, no doubt at the memory of Lloyd gleefully eating the nuts like so much bait. Gods above, he disgusted her. "I hope you burn in hell," she said.

His eyes met hers, and it was almost a confession.

_Already there._


	29. Triumphant Return

The contingent they met outside Palmacosta was a force of about a dozen men, fully armed and soaked from the march. As the Lieutenant rounded the bend, Lloyd in tow, she sighed and mumbled something about being able to hear those men complain from a mile away.

Lloyd couldn't blame them. It was wet, freezing, and showed no signs of warming up. Lloyd himself was dreadfully underdressed for the occasion, and his simple traveling clothes were soaked through. He wondered if the Lieutenant would let him find a raincoat somewhere in town. He pushed his desires for menial comforts to the back of his mind when the second Desian unit approached to greet them.

"Captain, well met," the Lieutenant said, saluting.

"Save your obsequious bleating for someone else, Lieutenant," he replied. His mouth quivered under his yellow mustache for a moment before he released a laugh. "Punctual as usual, ma'am."

"How is Magnius faring?" the Lieutenant asked.

"Smug, foul-smelling and ignorant, as always."

"That's good news."

In Lloyd's brain, the possible Cardinals these battalions worked for narrowed down to three. Forcystus, Rodyle, or the first and most powerful Grand Cardinal, whose name escaped him. He stored this information away as the Captain looked him over.

"This is him, eh? The Aurion boy? He knows where the project is?"

Lloyd nodded slowly. It wasn't his name, but he didn't bother correcting the man.

"Well, shove him in the middle and let's get this over with. I have to get back to the ranch with my quota before Magnius catches wise."

Someone prodded Lloyd forward, Desian soldiers falling into rank behind him. Something blunt and round nudged the small of his back, and he assumed it was a gun of some sort. He kept walking forward, between the shoulders of two Desian guards, until the massive stone gate of Palmacosta rose up before him.

He could smell the city before he entered it. The stench of dead fish, of factory waste, of rainy leaves and meat fried in the bazaar all filled his nostrils, and for a moment he felt as if he were merely walking to work, hands in his pockets to keep out the chill of the early morning. For a tiny, cathartic moment, his brain retreated into the time when Colette was still alive, when he had a pair of theater tickets in his waistcoat, when he braided his mother's frizzing hair. He almost felt sick.

They passed under the gates, thick shadows falling across their ranks, and Lloyd barely plucked up the courage to watch anything other than his feet. People in the streets turned to them, casting odious looks in their direction. A few children trailed after them, yelling, and they were only halfway to the square before someone recognized him as the Chosen's murderer.

An accusatory shout rang down the street, and people started to gather in earnest, some yelling, some staring silently at him. His heart started to race, but the ranks closed beside him and a few Desians lifted their weapons toward the crowd. Someone threw something, and it soared over Lloyd's head, hitting someone else in the mob.

The man who had initially gathered the crowd stood tall, shouting about how the Chosen-killer was in bed with those dirty half-breeds, screaming at others to gather. "Look at him!" he shouted. "Look at him with those filthy whips!" A wave of jeering followed.

The Lieutenant sighed so hard Lloyd could hear her over the shouts of the throng. "Nosy little pigs," she muttered, and lifted her rifle. She discharged three bullets into the air, and a silence fell over the crowd. "Keep your racist slurs to yourselves. Disperse, or I'll put a bullet in every one of your heads."

The crowd, unsatisfied, retreated like a wave, knowing there was nothing they could do. They went back to their shopping and commuting, a miserable, angry hum replacing their deafening shouts. Lloyd could not say he was thankful for the manner of the Lieutenant's interference, but he was glad to not have so many people gathered around, screaming at him to die for a crime he did not commit. If he hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he might've been among them, demanding justice for Colette's murder. He clenched his fists at his sides. At this rate, whoever had really done it would never face punishment. As far as Palmacosta was concerned, there was only one suspect.

"Lloyd," the Lieutenant called back, and he approached her, careful not to breach the protective rank of Desian soldiers. "You have to escort us to your old apartment."

Gods above, as if it didn't look bad enough that he was already hanging out with Desians, Now the townsfolk would see him point this way and that, giving them instructions. If they didn't find a way to hang him by the time the day was through, he would be surprised.

"It's in the immigrant quarter," he said. He followed closely behind the Lieutenant, relaying instructions to her, as they rounded corner after corner, marched down the street, into the run-down, decaying building he and his mother had lived in, straight up the stairs, down the hall, and to the front door.

"Knock," the Captain commanded, and he rapped at the door, waiting for a reply.

"Who is it?" The heavily accented voice of the Thodan mother reached him, muffled by the wood. He turned to the Lieutenant, and she nodded.

"It's Lloyd," he said. "You know, Anna's kid."

"Go away! Get out! We know what you did!" Lloyd turned to the Desians and the Captain waved his hand.

"Break it down," he said.

Two Desians stepped forward, lifted their legs in unison and stomped at the door, once, twice, until it practically flew off its hinges into the apartment. It rattled to a halt by the stove, barely missing the terrified Thodan wife. She froze in place when she saw the small army of Desians march into her home, toting guns and fully armored. She retreated back into the doorway to her room, and the faces of a few of her children poked out behind her. She turned and yelled at them to get back, to go sit on the bed and shut up.

Lloyd could barely look at her. As the soldiers filled the room, her expression altered in an instant, from fear to confusion to hatred, back to fear. She stuttered, arms spread across the doorway, as if she expected them to come for her children.

"All right, then," the Lieutenant said, seating herself at the kitchen table. "Where is it?"

"It's in my old room," Lloyd said, stepping past the group of soldiers that had stuffed themselves in the tiny apartment. He struggled with the door and it creaked open. He peeked inside to find a massive bed occupying the entire room, filthy and flea-ridden. He looked back at the Thodan mother.

"After you left, someone else moved in," she said. "We all gotta pay rent."

"It's under the floorboards in there," Lloyd told the Lieutenant. "We have to move the bed if you want it."

She sighed, but gave her henchmen a dismissive wave. "Do it. You help, Lloyd." She lay one foot up on the table and looked around. "Nothing to read around here?" she asked.

"Maybe something of my mother's," Lloyd said, before he followed a pair of Desians into his bedroom and tried to pry the filthy mattress from its place by the window. The room was so narrow and the bed so wide there was no room for fingers on either side, so they had to pull it backwards through the room as its edges scraped the walls.

"I suppose we'll be here for a while yet," the Lieutenant said. "You there," she gestured toward the Thodan woman. "It's customary to offer a guest a drink isn't it?"

The woman nodded, shaking, and asked what she wanted.

"I'll take a whisky. Captain, may I get you something?"

"None for me, thanks," he said, sitting opposite her. "I'm teetotal these days."

"We don't have whisky," the Thodan woman said, and the Lieutenant admitted she would settle for any spirits she could find.

Lloyd tried not to listen to the Lieutenant passively rob his old housemate, and attempted to focus all his energy on moving this damnable bed. It was difficult work, trying to pry the mattress from its nook between the walls, but when they finally got it on its side, pushing it through the tiny doorway was an even worse problem. They had to compress it, nudge it halfway through the door, and just leave it there.

It didn't matter at that point, anyway. As soon as they lifted the frame on its side, the floorboard where his mother had hidden the exsphere sat in plain view. Lloyd bent down to it, scraping his fingers on its sides, trying to pry it loose. When he finally managed to pull the floorboard up, the Lieutenant was on her fourth drink.

"Here it is—" he started, but failed to finish. Beneath him was an empty, dusty space. He squinted, but could see only the contents one would expect occupy the small space between the floor of one apartment and the ceiling of another. He reached down into it, groping blindly, hoping that his fingers would close around something solid. His hand only came back covered in dust and the remains of cobwebs.

All of a sudden the Lieutenant was behind him. "Well?" she said, expectantly, cup in one hand, other reaching slowly for the handgun at her side.

"It's not here," Lloyd said.

"Pity," she answered, drawing the weapon.

"Wait a minute—" Lloyd gasped, but he shut up when the gun pressed to his temple.

"It's a shame you lied to us. I really didn't want to have to do this."

"I didn't lie," Lloyd insisted. "It was right here the last time I saw it, and _el__á_ didn't have it. It was here, I swear."

"You'd better start looking for it if you want to live."

The Thodan woman, in the doorway, started to tremble at the sight of the weapon. She stepped forward, stuttering, "They c-came for everything. After he broke out of p-prison, and his mother disappeared, the governor-general's men tore the place apart. They looked for clues."

The Lieutenant tilted her head. "Well then." She replaced her gun and reached out to Lloyd, helping him off the floor. His heart still twisted in knots, his fear made worse by the sudden disappearance of all animosity in her face. She smiled almost kindly at him. "We'd best make for the governor-general's place, then."

Lloyd let her lead him out of his old apartment, still numb with the shock that overtook him when she drew her pistol on him. He shook slightly, still unnerved at the ease with which she turned from brutal to pleasant. He gulped when she looked behind her to see if he was following in rank, down the stairs to the street.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, a small crowed had gathered at the door, pressing shoulder-to-shoulder to see the Chosen-killer on his way out of his old house and back through town. The Lieutenant had to fire several shots before they dispersed, mumbling. "Humans," she sighed. "So much like carrion birds it's uncanny."

They had a few stragglers follow them all the way to the governor-general's mansion, but they quickly disappeared when the Captain stepped up and pounded on the front door. A Desian visit to any place of authority meant some serious business was about to go down. Lloyd figured they were all heading to safe houses and shelters, perhaps a few of the smarter ones getting out of town before the inevitable raid.

Lloyd tried not to meet any of their eyes as he stood on the front steps of the governor-general's mansion. He instead focused on the Captain's large, gloved hand, smacking the door again and again until an agitated butler answered.

"What do you—" he stopped. His face paled as he took in the nature of his master's guests. He didn't have time to shut them out before the Captain barged in, followed closely by the Lieutenant and Lloyd, pushed between the guns and shoulders and rough arms of his escort.

The governor-general himself came into the lavish foyer to meet them, face as red as his ostentatious carpet. "What in Martel's name are you doing in my house?" he demanded.

"Forgive me, sir, I tried to—" A slap to the back of his head forced the butler's mouth shut.

"You have something of ours," the Lieutenant said, hand twitching at her side, by her pistol.

"I've never taken anything from you!" he said. "You presume I don't know better than that?" His glance met Lloyd's and his eyes went wide. "What is he doing here?" he yelled. Lloyd suppressed the temptation to speak. He had never thought he would see the governor-general again, but especially not under these circumstances.

The Lieutenant's eyes scanned the room, settling on the gold-trimmed tapestries, the paintings sitting in ornate frames, the vases and statuettes and fine wood finishes. "Where do you keep prisoners' possessions?" she asked.

"That's… next door, above the prison, but why—"

She motioned to four of her henchmen, who headed out the door and disappeared into the light. She removed her rifle from her shoulder and set it down against an ornate cabinet before seating herself on a bright, silk couch. She put her feet on his oak coffee table and glanced up at the infuriated governor-general.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"An exsphere. You might recognize it as the one taken off this young man here," she gestured to Lloyd, "shortly after his arrest. You don't happen to know where it is, do you?"

"N-no," he answered.

"You don't sound so convinced," she said, fingers resting on the pistol's black grip. The Captain circled past him, picked up a vase, looked it over, and set it back upside-down on the table. The governor-general started to sweat, visibly.

The Lieutenant just watched, smiling slightly, until one of the Desians who had gone next door returned to say they hadn't yet found it.

"Looks like we're just going to have to look ourselves," she said. She stood and motioned to one of her men to keep his gun on the governor-general's forehead.

The Captain, finished with his brief survey of the room, looked back at the Lieutenant. "Well, where do you suppose we begin?" he asked.

"The wine cellar, of course," she replied.

* * *

It took them a few hours to tear the place apart enough for the little stone to show up. When the four Desians sent to the prison had returned empty-handed, the Captain put them to work scouring the mansion, overturning beds and chairs and digging through drawers and cabinets. The governor-general stood back the whole time, shaking slightly, insisting that he didn't have what they were looking for.

They found it in one of his upstairs drawers, with the rest of his jewelry. When the Lieutenant dangled it before him, eyes shining in the exsphere's strange light, he insisted he didn't know it was even an exsphere. He had thought it was some sort of sapphire, he said. The Lieutenant smiled at him and closed her palm around the little rock. Lloyd supposed that to the untrained eye, it could pass for some sort of blue jewel, compared to its duller kin. It didn't matter to the Lieutenant, however.

"What were you planning to do with it?" she asked.

"I don't know—I don't—I was going to wear it, I guess. Later, but as jewelry, not as—"

"It doesn't matter, I suppose, as long as we have it now." She stood and turned to Lloyd. "Well, you've been immensely helpful, and I thank you for it."

"What now?" he asked, but a kick to the back of his knee answered him. He fell forward onto the carpet, one of the henchmen's rifles aimed at his neck.

"I'm afraid we have little use for you, at this point." She did not seem pleased, but she also did not seem too distressed at the situation. She merely sent him a sad glance.

"You can't!" Lloyd said. If he died here, they would throw him into the ocean, and his body would sink into the sand, to be devoured by marine creatures. His mother would waste away alone at the ranch, never to see him again. Gods almighty, he couldn't die here, not like this. "I'll help you. I'll do what you want."

"No, no!" the governor-general began screaming when he saw the gun against Lloyd's head. "Not on my carpet!"

Lieutenant Sage sighed. "Tie him up and throw him somewhere," she said, before leaning down to Lloyd. "You know I never look forward to executions," she said. "For your sake, I will see if there's something I can do."

Lloyd forced himself into silence, lips trembling. The cold circle of metal pressed to his skin sent a shiver through him. The Lieutenant pulled her communicator from the layers of her armor and held it up to her face, looking deep into its tiny screen. She stared into it, typing, for what seemed like hours. Lloyd's eyes followed the clicking hand of the grandfather clock as the man with the gun swayed behind him, the barrel touching his head, retreating, then touching it again. Lloyd was sure he would die merely of anticipation before any bullet could get to him.

The Lieutenant put the device away and nodded to her comrade. Lloyd sighed with relief as the metal barrel retreated. "Good news, Lloyd. You get to live. You aren't allowed to leave quite yet, though. Although, I wouldn't suppose you'd like to, what with that lynch mob gathering in the square."

Lloyd instinctively glanced to the door, and the Lieutenant followed his gaze. "It's late already. I'm sure the governor-general will not mind us staying the night, since he's been so helpful thus far."

The man himself, now bound and gagged and stuffed in a corner, let out a sound that may have been a protest. The Lieutenant glared at him for a moment before reaching down to the coffee table and lifting the goblet of wine she had left there. She had spent a disproportionate amount of time in the basement, searching through the bottles, presumably for the exsphere.

She lay down on the only upright couch in the room, wine in one hand, tiny gem in the other, and looked it over. "It's a fascinating color, isn't it?" she asked. No one was sure to whom she was speaking, so they all mumbled affirmations. She looked up, suddenly aware she was not alone with the tiny stone. "Well? Go keep watch. Make sure none of that rabble gets in."

A few of the soldiers jumped, hurdling the overturned furniture to find a post and guard it. The Captain leaned down to her, smiling. "Good work, Lieutenant. I'll leave some of my men with you. You keep that little thing safe, you hear?" he told her.

"Yes sir," she answered. "Are you heading back to the ranch?"

"Unfortunately. Magnius will be most displeased should I return empty-handed."

"Take some of that screeching mob with you," she suggested, pointing through the window to the throng gathering in the lamplight. "Discourage them from giving us trouble on our way out."

"Resourceful as always," he said. He saluted her, and she stood to reciprocate. He motioned to a few of his men and they grabbed their rifles. With one last nod in Lloyd's direction, the Captain pushed open the front door and exited the mansion, muzzle first. The door swung shut behind him, but Lloyd could still hear the sounds of gunshots and screams through the thick wood. He twitched, quelling his desire to rush out the door and attempt to save the mob that no doubt would've torn him apart, if not for Desian interference.

"Are you just gonna let him do that?" he asked the Lieutenant, who simply sat and sipped her wine.

"Of course. I detest this sort of barbarity, but it must be done. Such is the price we pay to keep an agent spying on Magnius."

"There's gotta be another way," Lloyd started, before the town's sirens started wailing. More screams, more shots. Lloyd cringed, and the Lieutenant poured herself another glass.

"It's a little late now, Lloyd. Just know that this has to be done in order to destroy the ranch system completely." Lloyd must've looked incredulous, because she apparently felt the need to append her statement with a threat. "Remember, if you do anything that jeopardizes this operation, you will never see your mother again." She handed him the goblet. "Have some. Drowns out the blare of the siren."

He took a sip for want of something better to do. She watched him intensely, not taking her eyes off him until he finished the glass. He handed it back to her, wiping his lip.

"What do you think?" she asked, perhaps trying to distract herself from the sounds of the chaos outside.

"I don't know," Lloyd answered. He thought of the glass of wine his mother promised to buy him at the theater. "I'm not… experienced with this kinda stuff."

"Then I suppose wine of such fine quality is wasted on you." She poured another. "I ought to stock up before we leave, anyway. The governor-general has quite a few vintages in his basement."

Lloyd just watched her slim fingers as they gripped the cup. They sat without speaking for a while, until the sirens died down and the square was left eerily silent. Lloyd could not help the shivers that ran up and down his spine. He almost jumped when the screech of the Lieutenant's communicator rent the quiet air.

She swore, reached back and pulled it from her pocket. She looked over it and sighed, tossing it to Lloyd. "Looks like your fix was temporary."

A few impenetrable symbols danced on the screen, and he couldn't make them out. He turned it over again, trying to pry it apart to see what had unraveled.

The Lieutenant leaned back on the couch, sighing. "Perhaps I should get someone else to fix it. What's the model number?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"It's on the screen."

Lloyd stared at the screen intently, and started to sweat. "Uh…"

The Lieutenant sat up, glancing over at him. "It's right there. Starts with a Z."

Lloyd did not know what a Z looked like. Or maybe he remembered… now that she mentioned it, but he couldn't recognize the letter next to it. He sat silently, staring at the screen, apparently with a look stupid enough to clue the Lieutenant in on his ignorance.

"Dear gods above, really?" she said. "You can't read."

Lloyd shook his head.

She lay back down. "What century is this?" she muttered, staring at the ceiling.

Lloyd turned red. He pulled the communicator apart and rearranged its insides for a little while, absentmindedly, self-consciously. He flipped a few things, twisted a few others, and handed it back to her. She reached out and took it from him with a gentleness he hadn't seen before.

"Is it fixed for good this time?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Should hold up for a while."

She played with the screen for a second. "You're an odd boy." When Lloyd didn't answer, she stood up. "I'm going to find a room to wash up in. You may sleep on the couch." She glanced to the nearest guard, who stood still, gazing out the window. "Keep an eye on him," she commanded, before retreating into the depths of the mansion. "Gods, I hope this shack has a bath somewhere," he heard her mutter.

Lloyd lay down and watched the ceiling with great interest, opening and closing his fists at his sides. His heart twisted in a knot when the thought of his mother passed through his head. He wondered if she was still alive, if Kratos was still with her, making sure she was amply punished for her escape. He turned to his side, jaw clenching. His father had said not to trust people so easily… he _had_ said that he was one of the bad ones, and Lloyd had been too stupid to see it. Gods, he had been too stupid and now his mother was paying the price. He turned back over, folding his hands above him. It didn't matter. If the Lieutenant and her ilk wanted to bring down Cruxis, he would help them. He would use them to get back to his mother, to rescue her. If he got to kill Kratos in the process, that would be a bonus.

Still, his father's words echoed in his head like a dream. He wanted him to go home, he wanted him to live out his life. He did not take him to the ranch. Technically, he had kept his promise.

Lloyd fidgeted so much just thinking about all of it the guard watching him told him to quiet down. He attempted to focus on something besides his family, so he chose the floor. He'd been staring at its intricacies for only a few minutes when the Lieutenant descended the stairs, gave the guard a nod, and then walked out the front doors.

Lloyd sat up, wondering what business she could possibly have in town. He stretched, slipping off the couch.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard demanded.

"To the bathroom. Unless you want me to piss on the carpet."

The guard grunted with disapproval, but let Lloyd cross the hall and shut himself in the first-floor bathroom. He relieved himself, spying a small, curtained window above the sink. When he was done, he removed the curtain rod to find the casement led to a small courtyard behind the manor. Lloyd looked to the locked door, back at the window, and then climbed onto the sink. He released the latch and lifted the glass, grunting. It obviously had not been opened in a while.

He stuck one leg out into the open air, toes groping for the ground. When he found it, he slipped down the sill and landed in the soft grass. He looked around for any guards on outdoor duty, any sign that a mob of angry Palmacostans were waiting for him. He seemed to be alone in the silent dark, so he made off after the Lieutenant, into the misty glow of the night-lit city.


	30. Familiar Confines, Familiar Captors

"I never thought I'd see this place again," Anna said. It had changed little from how she remembered it. Clean and efficient, with every prisoner accounted for, darting from task to task like so many ants. From up on the top floor's observational balcony, it almost did resemble an insect colony. Each member was so insignificant and entirely interchangeable that any humanity left in them was lost somewhere between the yard and the balcony. _This must be what they all see, sitting atop here_, she thought to herself. Ants, scurrying about, waiting to be crushed.

"Are you all right?" She saw her husband move to put his hand on her shoulder, but thought better of it and let it hang at his side.

"What a stupid question to ask," she replied. She watched a girl trip on the way to her block, hugging her knee. Two guards approached her and gave her a few kicks to get her moving again. "We all must look so small to you from up here," she muttered. "From up in the clouds." She gripped the railing and considered throwing herself into the courtyard below, but then decided it was too likely she'd live.

Kratos said nothing.

"Human lives must be so infinitesimal to you. Compared to four thousand years, our lifespans are nothing. Short, cruel, pointless."

"No." It was all he offered.

She turned to him, not willing to accept his curt defense. "They always say old age invariably takes your mind. I guess that it's no surprise that immortality has ways of driving you insane." She turned back to examine the activities transpiring below. "That would explain the gods' behavior."

Kratos remained silent. Truly he was the closest thing to a god she'd met, both in prowess and in wickedness. But the way he looked at her, so torn, lifeless, without a shred of shame, she knew he was simply a shell of what had once been a mortal.

_I suppose corpses don__'__t die_. She remembered, years and years ago, reaching to him, mystified and attracted to his strange condition, and putting her hand on his back. It was shortly after she had given birth, and he was sitting on the other side of the bed, back to her, leaning over the baby, rocking him. She lay her hand on one of his shoulder blades and asked him where his wings came from. He had told her it was a complex process. She had since learned to maneuver around his equivocations.

"When are they going to do it?" she asked.

"Tonight. You've been declared fit. Exsphere implantation will be in the north wing, as usual, but after lights-out so you have some privacy."

She leaned over the balcony, staring at the mountains that stretched up to cut the sky with jagged peaks. She thought she might be able to see the glint of the sea beyond them, but she wasn't sure. "Kind of you to secure for me the queen's treatment."

"I just don't want you to suffer—"

"You can't be serious, Kratos. You don't want me to suffer? Look around, look at where we are!" She clenched her teeth. "Gods, you're daft." She took a deep breath. "Better me than Lloyd, I guess. Remind me again where he is?"

"I don't know. They let him go. I assume he went back to Triet."

"He didn't. He's probably on his way here now, just to get himself caught." She sighed. "Why didn't you just give us both up, like last time? Why go to such lengths to dangle him at the end of your strings, just to spare him?"

"Because…" Kratos seemed to have to think for a moment. "He's my boy, Anna. I love him."

Anna couldn't keep her laugh inside. "You _think_ you love him. You tell yourself you love him. But intentions and actions are very different things."

"I assure you, Anna, I've done all I can to keep him out of Desian hands."

"Oh, have you? I seem to recall that he spent the more formative years of his childhood imprisoned in a human ranch."

"That was—"

"I raised him. I loved him, I taught him everything he knows. I showed him how to live. I suffered for him, I would die for him—I've killed for him." Kratos raised his head and met her eyes. "And I wouldn't hesitate to kill you, too, if it meant saving him."

Kratos' words came out hoarse, strained. "So would I, Anna."

Anna retreated, shivers running through her. She stepped back, lay her hand on her forehead, and bit her lip. "You made a deal with them, didn't you? To let him go if you gave me to them?"

Kratos nodded. She could not force herself to detest his earnestness, even if she detested everything else about him.

"You honestly believe they're going to leave him alone?"

"As long as they have you. As long as you give them what they want, he'll be left out of all this."

Anna watched the sun sink behind the mountains, leaving the sky dark and empty. "Kratos, you're as naïve as your son."

He stood, looming beside her for a moment before gently grasping her elbow. She didn't resist. "We need to get you arm cleaned for the procedure," he said. Wordlessly, she followed him off the balcony, back into the cold facility, heart fluttering and struggling like a drowning bird.

"I tried to be discreet," Kratos said. "I didn't want you back here, I really didn't."

Anna couldn't help chuckling a little. "And now look at me. Look at you. You've the courage and intellect of a rabbit, Kratos."

He ignored her insults, instead focusing on keeping her upright as they descended the stairs to the north wing. "I had hoped we would be able to avoid this if we found the Angelus exsphere on your person. Lloyd told me you had it."

"Well I don't." Anna thought for a minute. She certainly hadn't had time to go steal it back out from under her floorboards after the raid siren went off. If Kratos, or anyone knew that Lloyd might know where it was... "It's gone. Lloyd lied to you. Neither of us have it."

Kratos lowered his eyes, frowning. He squeezed her remaining hand at the door to the medical facility. "Anna. Are you ready?" he asked.

_Of course not, you idiot_. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He opened the door for her and she stepped inside.

* * *

Lloyd was a cat in a familiar barn. He snuck down the streets unnoticed, unheeded, unrecognized. There were so few people out and about at that time anyway, especially few considering the raid alarm that sounded that very afternoon. He contemplated making a break for it, but he knew better. Since the Lieutenant and her comrades had a plant in Magnius' ranch, there was a decent chance they had a few at Kvar's, too. One of them could easily sneak up on his mother and slit her throat in the night if Lloyd suddenly disappeared with their treasure.

He wondered if he was endangering her life simply by taking a walk. He would have to consider that possibility when he found the Lieutenant.

It didn't take him long to spy her, messy electric-white hair blowing in the faint wind. She stood next to the ruins of the old brothel, examining the scaffolding of the building that was to succeed it. He stepped up to her, taking a deep breath.

Before he could open his mouth, she turned to him, showing no surprise at his sudden appearance. "You're not supposed to be out here."

"Your security isn't great. Besides, I have a knack for escape. Ask your bosses about that."

The Lieutenant, much to his surprise, smiled. "That is true. Both you and your mother." She turned back to the rubble, staring at it.

"Why are you out here?" he asked.

"I can't stand the smell of that mansion. I had to get some fresh air. Although I should've known it was too much to ask for in this city." She went back to staring at the rubble.

"They were talking about building a library here," he said, simply because he didn't know what else to do.

"Good," she said. "It's the only wise decision anyone has ever made in this godforsaken town." She looked him over. "Although you might not get any use from an institution like that."

He shook his head.

She sighed. "I suppose now that you've escaped it's my duty to bring you back. Come on." She turned away from the collapsed building and led him back down the streets, metal shoes clicking on the cobblestone.

Lloyd suddenly realized they were quite near where he and Colette used to walk. It seemed like such a long time ago, the nights when he would hold her arm and follow her home. For a moment, his heart ached, and he was plagued by the thought of her watching him walk alongside a Desian woman. He thought he could hear her heart break somewhere on the other side of death, so he apologized to her, profusely, in his head, the same way he had to his mother. He told her, as he had told himself more than once before, that one day he would find the person who had killed her and bring them to justice, one way or another. It was the least she deserved.

"You look a tad upset," the Lieutenant told him.

He sighed, staring down at his feet. "I hate this city," he said.

"As do I. I can't abide the stench."

"And it's so crowded, and wet."

"And filthy."

"And…" Lloyd paused. "And the ocean. I don't think I like the ocean."

"I detest the blasted thing."

They fell into an agreeable silence for a moment as they crossed over one of the town's many canals. Lloyd could almost trace his own footsteps from his past, and Colette's. He started to miss her, disproportionately. He'd only known her a short while but he felt as if she would've had an important role to play in his life. She was the Chosen, after all—she played an important role in everyone's lives.

She was going to help him write a letter to Barra. She was going to reach out to him personally, help him when she should've focused on helping the whole world. Gods, what if she had stayed behind and extra night just to write the letter for him? What if, had it not been for him, she would've left the town before her assassin found her? He shook his head—the time for self-blame was later, when he'd recovered his mother and life returned to normal. But he couldn't completely shake the past from his head.

"Say, Lieutenant Sage—"

"Call me Raine. You're not one of my subordinates."

"Why'd you become a Desian?"

She stopped in her tracks, whipping her head toward him. "What would make you think I was anything else before I was a Desian?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem different."

"You keep saying that. I don't think you're correct. I'm more similar to my comrades than I am different from them."

"You mean, just by being a half-elf?"

"I suppose you'd never understand. You've never been a half-elf. You haven't experienced what we have."

He clenched a fist. "Experienced what? Last time I checked, there were no half-elves enslaved at the ranches."

Raine frowned at him, eyes flashing angrily. "It astounds me how little you know. But the fact remains that it's reductive and unhelpful to argue about who's had it worse." She resumed walking, Lloyd following closely. "Both races have committed atrocities."

Lloyd could not recall humans ever doing to half-elves what they had done to him at the ranch, what they must be doing to his mother as they spoke. But he didn't harass the Lieutenant. If she told him the truth, she was working to end that sort of savagery. There was, of course, always the possibility that she was not telling him the truth.

They walked in awkward silence for a minute, before she came out with an idea that made Lloyd do a mental double-take. "You're going to have to learn to read, among other things, if you want to be useful to us. We have no room for an ignorant provincial such as yourself."

"Well, are _you_ going to teach me?" he asked. He thought of the communicator, of the strange symbols that danced on its screen, the shame that had washed over him when she found out he couldn't read them.

"I certainly hope not; I'm no teacher. But the ship ride back will be quite dull, I imagine. If you find yourself a book I'll show you a few letters." They entered the town square, beyond which the governor-general's mansion stood tall. "If I'm going to have to endure your company for the next little while, I might as well assist you in educating yourself. We can always use a man with a knack for machinery, so we might as well make you as knowledgeable as possible." Her sharp gaze settled on him. "Besides, illiteracy depresses me."

He looked down at the ground, watching the reflections of street lamps dance brilliantly on each cobblestone. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to keep his heart from beating its way out of his chest. He tried to think up what sort of quip his mother would give him if she knew he was going to have a Desian as a schoolmistress. At least she never would've seen it coming—frankly, neither did he. He surprised his mother a lot less than he imagined he did, but she would get a kick out of his situation now. He hoped she would survive the ranch until he came to get her, whenever that would be.

When they reached the doors of the governor-general's mansion, Raine opened them wide and led him inside, much to the dismay of his guard, who had searched the house when he failed to return from the bathroom. "You should keep a better eye on him," she said. "Considering his history."

"Yes, ma'am." The soldier's voice shook slightly as he saluted. He glanced over to Lloyd, no doubt eyeing him disdainfully beneath that shadowy helmet. "We leave tomorrow," Raine said. "The ship will be arriving early morning at the southern harbor. Get some rest." She made her way to the stairs. "No doubt one of you will have to hold the bucket for me the whole way there."

"Yes, ma'am," the man said again, before she disappeared. Lloyd wondered why she needed a bucket at all, then remembered his own trip across the sea, leaning off the side of the boat and depositing his meals straight into the water.

When they left the next morning, he pilfered a small bag from the governor-general's closet, slipped whatever money he could find in the living-room drawers into it, and grabbed a book off the shelf before he followed the Desians out the front door into the early morning light.

When they passed the market, still erecting itself in the early mist, Lloyd pointed out a stand that he knew sold candied ginger. "Get some of that. It helps with seasickness," he said.

The Lieutenant took his advice and brought enough for both of them, which the visibly shaking vendor had handed to her, free of charge. When they crossed the gangplank and stood on the metal deck, she leaned against the handrail, chewing it thoughtfully.

Lloyd crossed back and forth along the ship's length, examining it. It was undoubtedly a craft of Desian make, with a glinting steel hull and electric lights running along the walls. When the motor sputtered to life and the ship pulled out of the harbor, white water foaming behind its propellor, Lloyd leaned over the back to watch the mechanism slice at the water.

"Can I go check out belowdecks?" he asked Raine, too excited to notice the slight nausea forming in his stomach.

She shrugged. "I suppose there's no risk of you escaping. But why would you want to go down there?"

"I want to look at how this thing works." The exhilaration in his voice must've convinced her.

"Fine. Under supervision." She called one of her comrades over and commanded him to make sure Lloyd didn't screw up the ship somehow.

He didn't emerge from the depths of the hull until the sun touched the horizon, and by that point he was so covered in grease he was barely recognizable. Even when the engine room's foreman grew tired of his company and kicked him out, even as they sprayed him down with freezing water on the back deck, he couldn't wipe the guilty smile from his face. It was only beginning to fade when they locked him in the cabin for the night, and he realized that he was supposed to be seasick.

He sat down on the creaking metal bunk, clutching his stomach, as Raine sat across from him, at the one table next to the tiny window. "You know, eating helps. You haven't had anything all day." She handed him a small bundle wrapped in a napkin. He opened it and found a piece of sourdough bread, probably leftover from the crew's lunch—a lunch he happily skipped to watch the engine roar. He cracked the bread apart and began to eat, feeling a little better.

"These work quite well," Raine said, popping another ginger into her mouth. "Usually I rely on some sort of barbiturate to get me through these voyages." Lloyd didn't answer—he didn't know what a barbiturate was. "This works just as well to quell the sickness, but I'd still rather be asleep. I don't have to worry about drowning when I'm passed out."

"You think this tank is gonna sink?" he asked. "Not likely. You should see the reinforcement they have down there, it's—"

Raine evidently was uninterested with the intricate workings of the craft. She merely pointed behind Lloyd, to the tiny traveling bag he had stolen from the mansion. "Show me what you picked out."

Lloyd reached back, grabbed the book and handed it to her. It wasn't too big, and it had a sturdy leather cover that Lloyd found attractive. He hadn't had time to sift through the contents, but he didn't mind a surprise.

"_The Birdwatcher__'__s Guide to the Palmacosta Region,_" Raine read, before turning a few pages. "You couldn't have picked something a little more interesting?"

"I can't read the covers," he said. "How was I supposed to know?"

She sighed. "Well, at least it's sorted alphabetically. That's a start. Although it could use fewer pictures." He got up off the bed and moved to her side, reaching out and grabbing a piece of ginger before seating himself and looking over her shoulder at the book. Intricate drawings of birds of all sorts sat between walls of incomprehensible text, sometimes taking up a whole page.

Raine flipped through the pages, bringing them back to the front. "We'll start with A. Right here is depicted the Asgardian Thrush. That's the sound it makes: 'ah,' usually, or 'ay.' This is what it looks like." She turned the book to him.

"Like a tent."

"That's right." She sighed. "Gods above, this is strange, especially with someone your age. I haven't taught anyone to read in nearly a decade."

"Who was the last person you taught?"

She pursed her lips, a sour look crossing her face. "My little brother."

"Oh yeah? What's he like?"

"Do you think you have a grasp of what A is?" she said. "Here it is in lower-case. I brought some pens and paper for you to practice writing them down."

Lloyd let her steer the conversation. "When do we use this one, and not the other?"

"When you begin a sentence or a proper name with it. Like… a person's name, or a place name."

"Why? Everyone knows what letter it is either way, right? Why complicate things?"

Raine bit her lip. "Don't make me regret this, Lloyd."

He held his tongue, revisiting the fact that his corpse might be at the bottom of the sea were it not for her. "Sorry. It's just… weird to learn."

"I'm sure it is. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be illiterate. It must be difficult to live."

"Huh? Nah, it's not that bad." Lloyd tried to smile. "I get by."

"Here's your pen. Write it down, capital and lower-case, fifty times each."

"What? Fifty!"

"Make it a hundred. I'll be over here, reading. Giving you some motivation." She opened her own book, the one that had ridden in her bag to Palmacosta, and lay back on her bed. She sighed in sequence with Lloyd. "This is going to be a long process."

* * *

His head was filled with birds and wrenches. He dreamt of turning knobs and black engines sputtering smoke, of steam and wires and switches. Atop the machines fluttered the Asgard Thrush, the Balacruf Wren, the Common Raven, the Darkwater Seagull, the Eastern Red-backed Warbler, the Fork-tailed Petrel. They danced around, fluttering from pipe to pipe, building nests of wires, laying tiny bombs that exploded into bursts of gray down and smoke.

His lessons blurred into his sleep, which in turn blurred into the hours he spent belowdecks, shadowing the mechanics that kept the ship afloat. When they finally reached land, it felt as if he'd woken up from a particularly strange lucid dream.

When he stepped out of the boat onto the metal harbor platform, he did not recognize the area. He was not near Iselia, he was relatively sure—the clumps of palm trees told him as much. A massive building, halfway built into the side of a gargantuan cliffside, jutted up above the trees, glinting blue and silver in the harsh sunlight. Lloyd raised his hand to shade his eyes, as he took in the scope of the place. The land ended abruptly on all sides, dark cliffs dipping into the foaming sea. He turned to Raine, who had such a look of relief at dry land he might've thought she'd just crawled from a shark tank. "Is this Rodyle's ranch?" he asked. When she nodded, he turned back to the building. "I heard about this place from the other prisoners, once."

"I'm sure they only have good things to say about it," Raine growled, walking past him. "Come on."

The guards at the building's large steel door seemed surprised to see a human among their returning comrades, but said nothing as they passed. They merely nodded to Raine and opened the massive doors.

Lloyd hesitated before taking a step inside. The Lieutenant looked back at him, with an expression of partial understanding. She was observant enough to know he would be reluctant to return to any Desian facility, even if he had no choice. But he forced himself past that threshold, and followed her down the hall. The doors creaked closed behind him, shutting out the white, tropical sun, and his heart flung itself into his throat.

Now would be the time they would pounce on him, if that was their intention. He instinctively cringed, a slow, unnoticeable tensing of his muscles, ready for the revelation that Raine had betrayed him. But none came. The most damaging interactions he encountered were a few dismayed stares from passing guards, wondering why the whole place suddenly smelled like human. Raine led him down the hall to an elevator, and when he stepped onto the platform with her, the other guards fell behind, taking their places on either side of the door.

"Where are we going?" Lloyd muttered. The pressurized silence of the lift made him feel that if he spoke above a whisper he would crack the glass beneath his feet.

"I'm going to show my superiors what I've brought them," she answered. She took a deep breath and eyed him threateningly. "So behave yourself. If you don't there's no telling what they'll do to you. Shut you in a cage and put an exsphere on you, most likely."

Lloyd faced forward and gulped as the elevator's ascent slowed.

As the doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, she leaned over to him and whispered, "Don't say anything. Or I'll kill you."

He was hypothesizing about the validity of that statement when she pushed him forward, out of the lift, and onto a shining silver platform. Before him stood a huge, curved window, beyond that, the cloudless blue sky. In front of the window sat a long interface saturated with buttons, levers and glowing screens, occupied by at least a dozen operators, hunched over the apparatuses. Two men stood at the center of the room, waving this way and that, giving orders.

When they heard the elevator doors open and redirected their attention accordingly, Lloyd's heart stopped in his chest. One of the men he didn't recognize. But the other, the one closest to him, looked no older than he did nearly a decade ago, when Lloyd had seen him last.

"L033," Forcystus smiled. "It's been a long time."


	31. An Empty Echo

Lloyd's breath left him, his eyes narrowed, his instincts pushed his feet wide, ready to run or fight or stand his ground. He tried not to act like a threatened animal, but he figured all present had already seen through him.

He had told himself he'd be prepared for this, that Raine was working for a Cardinal he would one day have to face, but he had secretly hoped it would not be Forcystus. He did not want that blow to hit him so close to home. But here he was, standing across from, and inexplicably allied with, one of his worst childhood fears.

"You've grown," Forcystus said. His voice did not have the same sharp cruelty that colored Kvar's, Lloyd noticed, but he could not help imagining that the statement was some sort of insult. He glanced to his feet, unwilling to reply. The intensity of Raine's presence beside him forced his mouth to stay shut. He told himself it would be the only way to see his mother again.

"He looks big enough for an Angelus implantation," the other Desian said. Behind his colored glasses, his beady eyes flashed greedily. "Just throw him in the basement and my men will take care of him."

"No need for that, Lord Rodyle," Raine said, stepping forward. She reached into her breast pocket and produced the exsphere. As she held it out, glinting in the brightness of glass-filtered sunlight, all eyes fixed on it. It looked like a drop of dark water, sitting in Raine's gloved hand.

"Is this really it?" Forcystus asked. Rodyle made a move to reach for it, but Forcystus stepped in his way, telling the other Desian to calm himself.

"From what I've gathered, it seems genuine. Although I will still need to perform some tests."

Forcystus' fingers closed around the little stone and he lifted it gently out of Raine's hand. He cupped it loosely, as if it were some sort of fragile insect. His eyes lit up when he looked it over. "Excellent work." He glanced up at Lloyd. "Doubly so for bringing him unharmed."

"Let me see that," Rodyle squeaked, attempting to wrest the exsphere from Forcystus' grip. He closed his fist and left his comrade disappointed.

"Lieutenant Sage, see that L033 is treated decently. We will decide what to do with him shortly." He made sure to settle his eyes on Lloyd.

Raine turned on her heel and headed to the elevator, commanding him to follow. He couldn't keep from looking over his shoulder at Forcystus as he stumbled after her, trying to take in the whole scenario. It seemed like the only way he could breathe was only after the doors closed behind him and they started their long descent.

He let out a loud sigh.

"That must've been strange for you," Raine said.

Lloyd stood silent for a moment. "That man made my life hell for years. And now I just gave him the exsphere that made my mother's life hell, all so he can use it for his own gains."

Raine sighed. "It's not like you did it all of your own volition, Lloyd. You had me threatening you this whole time. You've been sufficiently coerced into cooperating."

"Why does that fail to make me feel better?" he asked.

"Sometimes…" Raine took a deep breath, listening to the metallic hum of the elevator. "Sometimes we have to make compromises. Moral compromises, to ensure our own survival, or the survival of those we love. We sometimes even have to do it to make the world a better place. That's why they call it a 'greater' good, Lloyd. It's because it overshadows all of the tiny evils that we must commit to ensure its realization."

"I don't want to commit any evils," Lloyd said.

"No? Too bad, Lloyd. You're human. It's part of who you are. It's part of who we all are."

He was about to call her on this cryptic statement when the elevator doors opened and Raine stepped out. She motioned for Lloyd to follow her, nodding to her comrades in the hall, occasionally gracing them with a verbal greeting. When she came to a small metal door, she opened it for Lloyd and practically pushed him inside the tiny room.

"You stay here. Don't cause any trouble, don't talk to anyone. You have everything you need right there in the room. Practice your letters. I have things to do."

"Raine, wait—" Lloyd started, but she had already slammed and locked the door.

* * *

_To the Esteemed Officers on the Board of Selection, _

_I am writing to request a postponement of the exsphere implantation and subsequent commencement of the Angelus Project on human subject L033. He has not shown any classic symptoms of sicknesses that would normally prevent his undertaking this procedure, but he has shown great promise in fields unrelated to exsphere growth. In the time I have traveled with him, he has displayed an affinity for machinery unprecedented in his kind. He is an idiot savant of sorts, whose skills would benefit us greatly should they be put to proper use. It is with great confidence that I insist he be allowed to work under the Mana Cannon team, and urge you to delay his imprisonment until after the finalization of that project. I will personally supervise him to ensure that he is utilized maximally. _

_With utmost loyalty,_

_Lt. R. Sage, 4th Division, Chief Assistant Engineer_

Raine lowered her pen and sighed. She always liked finishing letters, although she knew the words would likely be lost on her superiors.

She thought perhaps the selection board would listen to her plea if it was well written and presented personally. She doubted it. Desians in general had an affinity for paperwork but not for words themselves. It was a strange state of limbo between illiteracy and bureaucracy; two concepts that made Raine's hair stand on end.

But she folded the letter anyway, sliding it into an envelope labeled as urgent. Perhaps, if Rodyle didn't get to the Board first, she could convince them to let Lloyd live for a while longer, before they inevitably shut him away and grew another Angelus exsphere on him.

Raine had a nasty habit of trying to prevent captured humans from entering the exsphere harvesting process. Any scientifically-minded individuals she had come across she had requested mercy for, to have them work on the mana reactor. It was only a different kind of slavery, but it was work that did not leave their bones broken and their eyes dead. Soon the Board stopped listening to her pleas, but she had lavished so much praise on Lloyd she figured they might give him a chance. Besides, they already had one Angelus exsphere—they probably didn't need another right away.

She sighed, turning in her chair. She was about to get up to slip the envelope into one of the many pneumatic tubes running along the walls of the facility, but her door creaked open. She saluted when Forcystus entered her chamber, a roguish half-smile on his face.

"Well, well, Lieutenant Sage," he started. "I should've known your performance would be exemplary."

"Sir."

"Not only did you bring the Angelus exsphere back in one piece, you brought L033 with you. Even willingly, it seems. How did you get the boy to cooperate with you?" He strode across her room, eyeing the items she kept on her windowsill: a tiny arrowhead, a stack of letters, a ripped photograph of her little brother.

"It was relatively simple," she said. "I told him our goals. They inevitably led to the release of his mother from Kvar's ranch, so he was willing to work with us on that fact alone."

Forcystus smiled. "I admit, if you'd asked me years ago, I'd have said your bluntness would present a danger to our cause, rather than an advantage. I've never been so wrong." After spending a few seconds looking at her windowsill, he turned and stared her down. "I heard you were teaching him his letters. I find that curious. Why on earth would you have taken a liking to an inferior being like him?"

"I'm not sure."

"Does he remind you of your brother?"

Raine shook her head. "Not at all. Perhaps that's why I don't mind his company. Too many half-elven faces around here, making me remember. He bears no resemblance to Genis whatsoever, so when I look at him, I'm not reminded of him at all. It's freeing, almost."

"I'm pleased to hear you don't detest _all_ the company you keep."

"Sir, if you've received complaints from other members of my—"

"Can it, Sage. You know I've already accepted the pros and cons of your participation."

Raine fell silent.

"I'm simply glad you have been decent to him. If we're ever going to convince his father to come to our side, we need his son over here first."

"All due respect, sir, I don't believe he's truly on our side. As soon as A012 is released I've no doubt he'll disappear back into the woodwork."

"It doesn't really matter at this juncture. He is still a valuable tool. But we should test him."

"Sir?"

Forcystus produced the tiny exsphere she had handed him only hours before. "I want you to give this back to him."

_Are you insane?_ Raine asked inwardly, but did not have the temerity, or stupidity, to say it aloud.

"You are the most observant person I know. You've a brilliant analytic mind, and experience with the subject at hand. The calculations and notes you've given us on the construction and maintenance of the mana reactor should keep us busy for a while. You're always three steps ahead of the chief engineer."

_That__'__s why I should__'__ve been chief engineer,_ she thought.

"You're going to take him out and field test him. I'm sending both of you to Tethe'alla, to put the squeeze on the Lezarano company. Their supply is falling short of our expectations, and we need more exspheres if we want to get the cannon up and running. Besides, we need a way into the Tower, and with the Sylvaranti Chosen dead, there's only one left."

Raine went cold. "My lord, I can't go back to Tethe'alla. I'm needed here, at the reactor, at the cannon—"

"You're needed where I tell you you're needed, Sage. As of this moment, your participation in the mana cannon project is suspended. You're now the leading officer of a special intelligence unit."

Well. This development certainly came as a surprise. Raine almost flinched at the news. "This unit consists of whom?" she dared to ask.

Forcystus smiled in a way that Raine did not dare interpret as mischievous. "Just you and him. Don't want to attract too much attention."

"All due respect, I adamantly insist that this is a bad idea."

"Just think of it as postponing his death sentence. You already have a bad habit of hiring any human with basic algebra skills to spare them."

Raine bit her lip.

"Besides, I think it will be a good solidification of his allegiance to us, to see how our kind is treated on the other side." He made for the door. "You will tell no one of this operation, especially not Rodyle. I suspect he's going to turn on me at any point now. He's the last one I want breathing down my neck about this. You will keep close contact with me, always."

"Yes, sir."

"All right. I'm off to have a talk with the boy himself."

Raine bowed deeply as he closed the door behind him. She clenched her teeth and stood back up, crossing her arms. The last place she'd ever wanted to go again was that godforsaken hellhole of Tethe'alla. That entire world brought nothing but inconvenience and pain for her.

But Forcystus was her superior officer and his word was law. She sighed, bending down to the tiny cabinet below the windowsill. She would need some liquid help with this operation, she thought. She poured herself a glass of whisky, drained it, and poured another.

* * *

Lloyd stared at the ceiling, counting. A few sheets of paper lay on his bedside table, covered in messy scribbles of letters. He had been driven more by boredom than dedication to complete his assignments—there was nothing terribly entertaining in his room. They had locked the door, so he couldn't exactly wander off to explore more interesting things anyway.

When he heard a small creak, he lifted his head. He sat up as Forcystus entered his room, smiling slightly and tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling.

"Evening, Lloyd."

Lloyd hadn't known how many hours had passed since he'd been locked in that tiny chamber, but he hadn't expected it to be evening already. Maybe that would explain why his stomach was rumbling so desperately.

Without waiting for a reply, Forcystus continued. "I know this must be a strange experience for you, to say the least."

"No kidding."

"I also know that you probably bear a lot of hatred toward me, and what I had to do. To you, and all those other people at the ranch. I assure you it was necessary."

Lloyd cringed. "Nothing like that is ever necessary."

"We can argue the moralistic details later. For now, I'm going to try to make it up to you. You see, I need your help."

"Why would you need the help of a human? I'm nothing but an inferior being to you guys, anyway."

"Not true. You're different from them, Lloyd. You're useful to me in ways they'll never be."

Lloyd hoped the Desian wasn't referring to him being his father's son. "If you're going to threaten my life in order to get Kratos to come over to your side, forget about it," he said. "He doesn't care. The Renegades already tried that."

Forcystus sighed. "I'm aware of that. We don't need his cooperation, exactly. Killing him will work just as well."

"Well, then. You want me to do it? Because I would if I could." He swallowed. _But I can__'__t_.

"No. I know better than to ask that of you. We're not going to force you to interact with your father in any way. You don't have to ever see him again, if you don't want to. We're just going to test the Angelus Project for a little while." Lloyd stiffened as Forcystus sat beside him. "Relax, Lloyd. We're not going to harvest you. Rodyle's commanded it, but we all make a habit of not listening to him."

"Why not? Isn't he a Grand Cardinal, too?"

A cynical smile spread across Forcystus' face. "Frankly, Rodyle is insane. He's absolutely mad. The only reason he turned against Cruxis is because he wants to take it over himself. He has no intention of abolishing the ranches, he has no intention of creating peace between half-elves and humans."

"And you do?"

Forcystus nodded.

Lloyd had to convince himself the man wasn't kidding. The sincerity of his voice and the forthrightness of his speech infuriated Lloyd. He had never encountered hypocrisy on such a scale. He had to put his hands in his lap to keep them from striking the Cardinal. "How?"

"We're going to leave. We're going to take our whole race and go back to Derris-Kharlan."

Lloyd could not stop himself from laughing. "You mean the planet, from the old myths? That's a bedtime story."

"It's real. And it's the key to bringing peace between our races. We're going to go home, Lloyd. We're going to leave you alone, just like humans have always wanted."

Lloyd thought about it for a moment. "Derris-Kharlan, huh? You mean the Desians will go away forever?"

Forcystus nodded. "The Desians, as well as any non-affiliated half-elves who want to come. We're all going to go back where we came from."

Lloyd was not one to argue with the merits of alleviating racial tensions, but he did not know why they had to go to such drastic measures. "Why can't you just learn to get along with us? You know, down here."

"It's harder than you think. There are a lot of things you don't know about race relations in Sylvarant or Tethe'alla."

"Well, from what I've heard, humans and dwarves and elves have all learned to get along fine."

Forcystus lay his face in his hand. "You need to read up on your history."

Lloyd reddened. He was suddenly very aware of the piles of capital and lowercase letters sitting on his bedside table. "Well, thanks to you, I can't read anything at all." All those lost years at the ranch, his ineptitudes, his sufferings, lay at the base of his mind like quicksand, sucking in any other thoughts that passed over them. "And why should I help you, after you ruined my life? After you ruined my mother's life?"

"Your internment at my ranch was nothing personal. In fact, I went out of my way to make sure that Kvar did not get his hands on you. I had nothing against you or your mother—in fact, I admired her in a way. She was so bold, so perplexingly clever, she bordered on insane. She was brave and fierce, and frankly, a magnificent specimen." Lloyd bit the inside of is lip so hard he felt warm blood swell under his tongue. When Forcystus turned to look at him, he found he had to redirect his own gaze to the door. "I have no intention of killing her now. In fact, I wish her all the best. When this is all over, after we've destroyed Kvar, you can take her back to the desert and live out your lives."

"I have a hard time believing that," Lloyd said. "That's what my father said, before he betrayed me." He looked up into the half-elf's single, intense red eye. "You're a traitor, too. You turned against Cruxis, even when you killed people for them."

"I did what I had to do to get this far. Concessions must be made, Lloyd, when you're double-crossing someone. Especially if that someone is evil incarnate. I ran the ranch as mercifully as I could, but you understand I could not cease operations altogether. Besides…" he seemed to be considering whether he should continue or not. "I needed the labor. Weapons to take down Cruxis cannot build themselves. But I never intended to use you as an Angelus Project subject, not while I had your mother. And even then, I didn't want to kill her if I didn't have to. Now that we have the Angelus exsphere, I don't have to."

"What are you going to do with it?" Lloyd asked.

"In the long run, I intend to weaponize its mana. In the meantime, I'm going to give it back to you."

Lloyd shook his head, wondering if he'd misheard. "Why? After all this to get it to you?"

"You're going to show me what that thing can do." He stood. "And I cannot think of a better gesture of trust than to return it to you. Perhaps, in time, when you learn more about the nature of the worlds, you'll come to understand why I have made the decisions I have."

"How do you know I won't just run off with it?" Lloyd asked.

"You'll be under supervision, of course," Forcystus said, laying his hand on the doorknob. "I wish you luck in your endeavors." He shut the door behind him before Lloyd could speak.

He sat back on his bed and resumed staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, cursing himself, his situation. He hadn't wanted any of this. All he had wanted was to play oud at his mother's wedding. But here he was, knee-deep in this dilemma. He sighed, rubbing his forehead before sitting up and reaching over to his table. He dragged his messy papers onto his lap, absentmindedly nibbled at his pen, and continued writing.

* * *

Anna sat at the edge of the prison yard, perched on a metal block, watching her comrades scurry to and fro, pushing, working, shouting. She had been spared the worst of the labor, not merely because of her handicap, but because her husband hovered behind her, always making sure she was treated well. She was allowed to keep her regular clothes, she was allowed two helpings at mealtime, she often found herself sitting far above the labor, looking down on the workers. She figured she deserved that much. Everyone else only served one sentence in a ranch. This was her second. She had seniority.

She looked down at the back of her right hand, at the tiny exsphere growing there. It poked through her red, flaking skin, glinting blue, just like it had last time. It wasn't nearly as big as her last one, but she knew that if she gave it enough time, it would grow to full size, and then…

Gods, it itched. She couldn't even scratch the back of her hand. She could only hover her stump over the area, imagining there was a hand there, relieving that infuriating tingling. Kratos must've seen her wiggle her mutilated arm uselessly, because he was suddenly beside her, asking her what was wrong.

_What__'__s wrong? I__'__ve had a parasitic crystal implanted in me and it will slowly and painfully drain my life, you idiot._ "It's itchy. I need you to scratch it for me."

"I'm not going to scratch it for you. It'll get inflamed."

"Just do it, you son of a bitch."

He sighed and leaned over, fingernails picking at the edge of her exsphere, relieving the itch. He used to scratch her back often, in the mornings, after she woke up. He had pet her more often than he had pet Noishe.

"You know, if I have to waste away here so Lloyd doesn't have to, that's fine," she started. "But do you have to be hovering over me all the time? You could at least have the courtesy to give me some peace."

"I can't, Anna. Kvar holds grudges; you know this. There's no telling what he'll do to you if I'm not around to keep an eye out."

"Maybe he'll finally kill me," she muttered. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"He will. Eventually. But not before…"

His silence amused the darkest part of her. "Oh, I know, I've heard the stories. From the other prisoners. From people on the outside. How he'll saw off your feet and sew them to where your hands should be, how he'll cut you open and rearrange your insides… I know all the horror stories, all the cruel experiments." She crossed her arms—or one, and what was left of the other. "You don't need to worry your pretty head. I'm too valuable. He won't try any of his little experiments on me."

"He will."

"How are you so sure?"

Kratos' nose wrinkled, as it would at a terrible smell. "He wants to find out if he can get more exspheres out of you. You've already made one, and you're still alive. That's a miracle in itself. So—"

"So he'll put an exsphere on an expendable part of me and then cut that part off just at the right time?" She laughed at the look on her husband's face. "You know, I played the love interest in a play quite like this whole ordeal. It features a mad doctor who kidnaps and dismembers people, and uses their parts to build terrible creatures. The writing was far more horrifying than the content, but the drama at the end made the play worth it."

"What happens at the end?" She could tell Kratos had forced himself to ask it.

"Suicide-homicide. My character poisons all her companions and then herself. She would rather die and take them all with her than let the doctor use them for his sick experiments."

She watched Kratos' face, hoping the dismay would never leave it. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

"Relax, Kratos. I'm not going to. If that means they'll go after Lloyd, then…" She took a deep breath. Cracks of whips echoed through the yard. She couldn't see whoever was being whipped, but hearing was enough. "Did you ever find out where he is?'

"No. They won't tell me."

"But they know?"

"Yes."

"Of course they do. You know once they're done with me they'll go after him, right?"

She saw his hand clench the sword hilt at his side. "They wouldn't dare."

"Oh, they would. But I guess if he's fine for now… I would've at least bought him some time. Maybe he'll die of natural causes before they come to kidnap him. He was always getting himself into trouble. Wandering off into the desert, getting trapped in all sorts of caves and ruins, searching for untold riches. Maybe, one day, he just won't come back."

"He's not going to die, Anna. Not before we do."

"If it means he doesn't have to return to the ranch, I'd rather outlive him."

"You can't mean that."

"I do. I'd rather see him die happy than live miserably."

Kratos sighed. "You say that, but I know you want him to live as much as I do."

"Believe what you want." Her exsphere started to itch again, and she didn't have the means to scratch it. She held out her hand to Kratos. "Can you get it?" she asked. He scraped at the little stone for her.

"I'm telling you, it's going to irritate it."

"Like I care. It'll kill me anyway. I don't want to give it an easy time doing it."

He continued scratching at her hand, and she looked up at her fellow prisoners, wondering if they even noticed a high-ranked officer bending over backward for her physical comfort. She hoped not—that would be a great way to get every long-suffering victim to hate her. She didn't need their hate. She didn't need their sympathy, either, although she found herself on the giving end of pity. She wanted to tell them the second time around it gets easier, but she knew there would be no second time around for them.

"Kratos." She didn't know why she wanted to try this, but she figured she might as well. "Go stop them from hitting that girl over there."

"Where?" He looked up, eyes settling on a brown-haired teenager, covering her head and screaming as whips bore down on her.

"There. She got whipped last week, too. Go stop them."

"Anna…"

"I'll never speak to you again unless you go put those bastards in their place." When he didn't move, she couldn't help herself from raising her voice. "I can't believe you! You can just sit here and watch that? Disgusting."

Kratos sighed, dropped her hand and walked over to the group of Desians. So preoccupied with adequately punishing the girl, they did not notice him standing among them, unflinching at the cracks of whips and the shouts of the victim. When one finally turned his head enough to see a superior officer standing next to him, he shouted to his peers and they all dropped their whips, bending to one knee. Kratos did not need to say anything. He merely stood and stared until they all crawled away like shamed dogs. The girl herself didn't have the bravery to thank him. She took off into the safety of the crowd of prisoners, and resumed her work as if nothing had happened. She left a small trail of blood behind her.

Anna twiddled her remaining thumb and cracked her knuckles on her leg. She eyed her husband, still standing in the dirt clearing where the Desians had beaten the girl. He stared at the wall where she had cowered, now alone, unmoving. He stood so still she couldn't help wonder if he was still alive, or had simply died standing upright and petrified within seconds. Maybe she wasn't thinking about it right.

She knew from his looks, from his hesitation, from his slow, tenuous movements that he was more of an echo of Kratos than Kratos himself. The man that stood before her, staring at the wall, was not her husband. He had died a long time ago.


	32. Compromises

"I can't wear this," Lloyd said.

"But you will."

Raine eyed him critically as he examined the Desian uniform she'd given him. He could not hide under the shadows of that helmet, he couldn't crawl into that dehumanizing armor. He just couldn't sink into the throng of interchangeable drones and become one of them. Holding the uniform in his hands now, the realization of his crooked alliance with the Desians hit him full force. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

"No, I can't."

Raine sighed. "You have to, if you want to get out of this ranch. Rodyle still thinks we have you in custody. If you're going to sneak out, you must wear it. It's a small price to pay."

He told himself he would be some sort of traitor if he put it on. But he had said the same thing about his exsphere, and he had worn that easily enough. He had woken up without it after the incident at the lake, so he assumed that it was still there, shining by the water, probably buried in sand by now. Wasted.

He remembered the day he and his mother escaped from the ranch. She had been dressed in a medic's uniform then, disguised as one of their own. He was sure she would forgive him, if he did the same thing now. If she had to dress as a Desian to get him out of the ranch, she would not mind him dressing as one to return the favor.

"Fine," Lloyd said. "Turn around, though." She obliged, and he pulled off his dirty traveling clothes, struggling to put on the tight, thick underclothes. "Gods, it's like putting on another skin," he complained.

"You get used to it. Do you need any help?"

"I don't think so." He managed to pull the whole thing over himself and zip up the front. He fidgeted in the profoundly uncomfortable body suit, wishing that he could go back to the loose, flowing clothes he had grown so used to in the desert. "Okay. I'm decent. I need to get the outer armor on, though."

"All right, turn around." Raine helped him slip into the light chest plate, buckled his pauldrons and helped him shove his arms into the long gauntlets. He tried to stretch, to get himself comfortable in his new getup, but all he could think about was how he couldn't wait to get out of it. When Raine picked up the helmet and placed it on his head, his discomfort increased significantly.

"I can't see anything," he said.

"And they can't see you." She put on her own. "There's a boat waiting for us. Are you ready? Do you have everything?"

Lloyd only had his pen and paper, a few spare coins and _A Birdwatcher__'__s Guide to the Palmacosta Region_. All packed up, all safe. He nodded.

"Well then, we're off."

She led him out of his room, down the hall, and to the front of the building, where the huge metal doors leading to the harbor stood. No one gave either of them a second glance as they walked down the hall, despite Lloyd suspiciously turning his head this way and that, to make sure no one was onto him.

"Just relax, Lloyd," Raine whispered to him as they approached the huge double doors. The two guards there asked what business they had in the harbor, and Raine flashed a little card. Without another word, they opened the gates for them and they stepped outside, into the harsh sunlight.

Lloyd nearly boiled instantly. He pulled at his collar, trying to let some of that awful heat dissipate back into the air, but he continued to cook inside his armor. When he and Raine finally reached the cool cabin of their small boat, he collapsed into a chair and threw off his helmet.

"How can you _stand_ it?" he asked.

"You just get used to it," Raine said, removing her own.

Lloyd thought of all those similarly dressed Renegades hanging around the desert, no doubt suffering in their armor. He thought of the Desian guards posted at the dock, condemned to sit and bake in the tropical sun until the end of their shifts. "Goddamn, no wonder you guys keep your bases so cold."

Raine seemed uninterested in the topic. She just removed her gloves, bent down and removed a small package from her bag. With a creak and a dulled roar of the engine, the whole cabin shifted, almost throwing Lloyd from his chair. When he recovered from the jolt, Raine had already set out a few items on the small table, including a map, a few papers Lloyd could not read, and his mother's exsphere, shining in the metallic light. He leaned toward it, examining its deep blue glow. He reached out for it and Raine did not stop him.

"Yesterday I took it to the exsphere examining room," she said. "In every test I conducted, it responded as a normal exsphere would. Evidently it possesses some sort of power that we can't measure using ordinary methods." She paused to look at Lloyd, now cradling the little rock in his palm. "Or, it's not the Angelus exsphere after all, and you've done a good job of lying to us thus far."

"Oh, it's my mother's all right," he said. The way his fingers wrapped around the warm stone reminded him of holding Anna's hand so many years ago. It radiated comfort the same way his other exsphere had radiated power.

"I suppose we ought to begin field testing when we have the chance."

"Field testing?"

Raine ignored him in favor of the map she had spread before her. "I haven't been given orders to tell you the details of the operation, but I haven't been given explicit orders not to. I'm of the opinion that everything will go much more smoothly if I convey to you our intentions. But you mustn't tell anyone I've told you this. I already have a bad reputation among my peers. Showing too much consideration for you might get me placed before the firing squad."

Lloyd gulped. "Okay. I won't tell anyone."

"Field testing the exsphere is a secondary procedure. Results from that are merely a bonus. What we're really doing is going to Tethe'alla."

"Really? Why? How?"

"There is only one way across the inter-dimensional barrier—at least that members of Cruxis and the Desians can use. We will be making our way to the Tower of Salvation, where we will cross over."

"You can get to Tethe'alla from there? What about…" Lloyd tried to remember the name. "What about Welgaia or whatever? The angel city?"

"We will not be going to Welgaia. We do not have the clearance to that path. Only very few of the highest members of Cruxis have access to the pathway leading to Derris-Kharlan. We will be taking a different route." Lloyd thought of Kratos, leading him through the silent city back down to the ground. Lloyd had a feeling he might've been high up in their ranks, but he hadn't been sure.

"Tethe'alla…" Lloyd tried to imagine what that world would be like. He'd only heard it mentioned in passing, and only in turns of phrases, sarcasm and a few children's stories back in Triet. There was a song he knew called "I'll find Solace in Tethe'alla," but it was only written to illustrate that the singer would never find solace at all.

"Once we get there, I will inform you what to do next. But for now, we just have to make sure we get to the other side in one piece. Or with both of us in two separate but complete pieces. Whatever expression you prefer." She flipped over the map and folded it. "Eventually Rodyle will catch wise that we've stolen you out from under his nose. He will not be pleased. So maintaining your disguise is critical, at least until we get to Tethe'alla. Then we will both need to don new clothes. But for now, endure that uniform. It could be worse."

Lloyd looked down at his mother's exsphere, feeling it pulse softly in his hand. "Do I need to put it on now?" he asked.

"No. In fact, I would prefer to keep it in a controlled environment until testing." He knew she could see the relief on his face, but she said nothing.

When they were far enough from the ranch, Raine gave Lloyd the freedom to explore the ship. The personnel aboard were trustworthy and loyal to Forcystus, so it didn't matter if he wore his helmet or not. Once they touched back down on land, he would have to readopt his disguise, so he made the most out of his freedom. He spent a few hours down in the engine room, discovering that many of the staff of this ship were the same ones that had brought him from Palmacosta. They were used to him watching, lending a hand, and didn't mind his presence.

Sometime in the late afternoon Raine called him up to the main deck. He figured she must've wanted to teach him a few more letters, so he trudged back up into the sun. She sat on a bench, nibbling on ginger, a book open on her lap. A Desian man stood beside her, arms crossed, machete hanging at his side.

"What's he for?" Lloyd asked. "I thought we were gonna do a lesson."

"We are, in a sense. Here." She reached out and dropped the exsphere and a tiny, silver key crest into his hand. "Put these on. We're going to do some testing."

"What? How?"

"Just put it on."

Lloyd sighed, rolling the tiny stone around between his fingers for a moment, before laying the key crest on his skin and pressing the exsphere to it. It sank into the back of his hand almost naturally, pulsating with a warm light. When it touched his skin, it did not exude the stinging, discomfiting energy he had gotten used to in his other one. The benign heat that coursed up his arm calmed him, slowed his breathing, sang into his blood the way his mother sang into his ear when he was a child. He closed his fist, gently, reveling in the feeling of his own skin.

He started to wonder why he had not worn it in the first place. He felt safer, covered somehow, as if he was finally dressed for the first time, and he hadn't realized he'd been naked without it. The comfort it gave him overcame the guilt stagnating in the back of his mind, the accusation that he was too pleased with the stone that had nearly killed his mother.

Raine watched him, taking in his expression, his stance. "Give me your hand."

He did, she took his pulse. "We're going to do some physical exercises now. You are to jog the perimeter of the ship five times. Don't worry about speed, just go at whatever pace you feel is comfortable."

"Why?"

"I don't recall asking you to speak. Now go."

Lloyd shrugged, figuring he didn't have much else to do, and obliged. When he returned, she checked him over and paused to write in her notebook. He leaned over it, curious to see if he could make out any of the words. He spied a few familiar letters, but couldn't construct anything out of them.

When she was done writing, she made him sprint the same distance, then walk it, then sprint it again. Encouraged by the newfound energy coursing through him, he did all she asked of him. She made him run, she made him jump, she made him stand on one foot, then the other. She made him sit still while she held her hand to his wrist, counting his heartbeats. For most of the afternoon she kept at him, measuring this and that, scribbling in her notebook.

"All right then," she said. She looked back up at Lloyd, her pen still mysteriously moving back and forth, taking notes seemingly of its own volition. "Now the real testing begins."

"What? We aren't done?"

The man standing beside Raine threw something at him. He flinched, lifting his hand, but managed to catch it. His fingers clasped the dulled machete about the blade, and he moved it to his right hand, gripping the hilt and swinging it. It was much heavier than his knives at home, and he couldn't get the feel of it. When the man opposite him drew his own blade and came at him, he could barely lift the machete to parry the strike. His weapon dangled clumsily in his hand, too heavy and ungainly. It didn't take long for the Desian to get an opening wide enough to clip him on the ribs and sweep his feet out from under him.

As he fell to the deck, he heard Raine sigh. "That was unexpectedly pathetic."

Lloyd struggled to his feet, massaging his sore backside. "Hey, if you want me to fight a guy, gimme something I can do it with. I don't know how to use this stupid thing."

"What do you know how to use?"

"Knives."

Somehow Raine didn't look surprised. She turned to her Desian compatriot. "Well, you heard the boy. Go fetch him a poor man's sword."

The Desian smiled and disappeared down into the hull.

"How do you feel?" Raine asked him.

"Huh?"

"I asked how you feel. With that exsphere on. Does it hurt? Does it burn?"

"No. Not at all, actually. With my other one, it kinda did, but with this one… it feels right, kind of. Warm."

"Interesting. Tell me if it changes." She lowered her eyes to the book in her lap. "I wonder if it recognizes its former host's kin and reacts accordingly. If so, then by what mechanism…" She started writing again, just as her Desian companion reemerged with a few knives, each a different style.

Lloyd chose two that most closely resembled the curved Trieti blades he was used to. When the man came at him a second time, the exsphere burst to life, filling him with a calming energy his old one never could. He held his own for a while, until Raine commanded them to stop. She was still writing, glancing up at them, then down at her papers, then up again, muttering to herself.

"That was good—fair. I'd say fair." She closed her book. "We're done for the day, Lloyd. At least with this exsphere business. You may give it back to me."

Lloyd hesitated, hand hovering over the blue stone, a tingling running up his arm. He didn't want to let that warm strength leave him. When Raine commanded him a second time, more forcefully, he pulled it off. It felt like a tragic parting, like his mother's hand slipping through his tiny fingers when she left him alone. He handed it back to her, suddenly tired, suddenly heavy.

Later that day, he sat in his cabin beside Raine, trying to refocus his energy to words on a page. The practice was so tiring and complex, thoughts of his mother momentarily left his head, replaced by letters and sounds. At first they meant little to him, but soon the disconnected symbols, so devoid of meaning alone, suddenly morphed into sound, into pictures, when placed in the correct order. Halfway to their destination, something clicked inside his head. It was like completing a circuit—only instead of light and motion, he discovered the images, the meaning behind the impenetrable little symbols.

Cat. Bed. Boat. Road. Bird.

It was extraordinary.

"This one is hard," Raine said.

"H… House." Lloyd's voice followed his finger faithfully. It was a revelation on the same scale as the day he had discovered money. The letters fell together like parts in a machine, cranking out meaning. He smiled.

"Good, Lloyd." Raine seemed disproportionately pleased with him. "Work through the next one."

"Um… S…"

"You remember the sound when those two letters go together?"

"Uh… Ship."

"You're getting better. Keep working on it."

He did. Each day, after the physical tests, in which he would have to perform all sorts of nonsensical exercises while sporting his mother's exsphere. Raine would drag him into the cabin and stand behind him as he stared onto the pages of the book he had chosen, struggling through the long sentences and technical definitions.

Raine had no mercy. "You chose this book, Lloyd. You're not going to stop until you read all of it."

"Gods above, kill me," he muttered, when he had spent a full minute struggling through the word "habitat." He had only picked out the book because he couldn't read in the first place—he didn't deserve to be put through this. "B… brood. What the hell is a brood?"

"It's a familial group of baby birds," she answered. "Although it applies to some other animals as well."

"So… like…" he thought for a moment. Ezra's family no doubt had a brood, with all his younger siblings swarming like starlings around him. "What about a group of kids kept at the ranch? You know, like all the little ones that grow up together."

Raine bit her lip, flinching at the question, but powered through. "Technically, I think that would be a cohort."

"Oh."

"Read on."

Lloyd slogged through whatever sentences he could, faltering at mountainous words he could neither read nor understand. He always sighed at these impasses, squirming so pathetically Raine eventually had to lean over him and repeat to him the proper pronunciation and meaning.

Seasonal. Aquatic. Plumage. Scavenger. Environment.

The complexity of the little written machines increased exponentially with each day. He tripped around phonics, searched desperately for meaning in any of the sentences, but they were so long and complicated and technical he could barely glean any meaning from them.

"You know, I can handle 'The dog sat on the bed.' I can't do… this. This is nuts." He sat back one night, scratching his head, frustrated.

"Many important things will be difficult at first, but you'll get the hang of it," she answered.

This wasn't her first time teaching someone to read, so he figured she was probably right. But he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was slower than he should be, that her little brother must've been some sort of word wizard, to be learning at this pace. Especially if he was still a child when he began to read.

"Gods, he must be some sorta genius," Lloyd muttered.

"Did you say something?"

"Nah. Just mumbling. Trying to get… Damn, trying to figure out what this one is." He pointed.

"Avian." Raine sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I have an idea, Lloyd. I think you should start wearing your exsphere all day."

"What, you think it'll make me smarter?"

"It makes you stronger by an irrational margin, so who knows?"

It didn't, unfortunately. When he pressed the tiny rock to his skin, he felt the same soothing warmth course through his muscles as before, but it did not do the same favor for his brain. He was still stupid, semiliterate Lloyd.

When the water was choppy, and both he and Raine could not stare at words without turning green, she would set him free from his lessons. He almost looked forward to those moments of nausea, if it meant he could slip away from those daunting words for a while.

He did like the pictures, though. Even when he wasn't supposed to be practicing, he'd sometimes flip through the book, taking in the lively illustrations of seemingly every species of bird that could be spied around Palmacosta. Many of them he recognized. Some he didn't, and when he came across those, he was sure to struggle through their names at the bottom of the illustration. He figured he would be an expert ornithologist—Raine had told him that was the name for people who study birds—by the time he was done learning to read.

He wondered if Raine's own massive tome had anything interesting inside. She seemed to eat words like other people ate food, devouring a text page by page and coming out refreshed. Lloyd figured she must be reading something good. She never seemed to part with the book when they were in the same room together, so he waited until she left to sneak up to the tome and open it.

He never actually got around to examining any of the words, though. He was instead fascinated by her bookmark—a worn, faded picture of a young boy. He carefully pulled it from the pages and took in the kid's mischievous smile, his bright hair, standing every which way. He looked a lot like Raine—or he would've, if Raine could smile like that.

"You aren't losing my place, are you?"

Lloyd froze, returned the bookmark, and closed her book. He timidly handed the tome back to her. "Sorry. I wanted to see what you were reading."

"It's a textbook on phonon interactions," she said. "You wouldn't be interested in it."

He sat silently for a little bit, until he mustered the courage to ask. "The boy in the picture is your little brother, isn't he?"

"Yes." She sat down on her bed, staring at the book's cover but seemingly uninterested in resuming it.

"Where's he now? Still with your parents?" He started toying with his exsphere, telling himself to not tread into territory he would regret.

"No."

"I guess you don't wanna talk about it."

"I would prefer not to."

Lloyd thought of all the worries and tragedies and regrets dancing around in his own head. He remembered the boy at the ranch with his symbols, the girl with her names, he remembered watching his father's back retreat from him, taking his mother with it, as he slowly faded into helplessness. "I understand," he said.

"I'm not sure you do."

He let her retreat into herself. He knew he couldn't pry anything from her she did not want to talk about. He had had the same issue with his mother, when he tried to get her to tell him more about his father, about the ranch, about her own past.

So he turned to the others on board. When he found the time between lessons and physical tests to descend into the engine room, he tried to ask around. Although the men there were used to his company and did not mind him hanging about, when he brought up the subject of the Lieutenant they all went mysteriously quiet. Due either to loyalty or fear of repercussions, they insisted that they did not know anything on the subject of the Lieutenant's brother, and if they did, they would not divulge.

Lloyd did not have enough time to work them over. The next day they hit land, coming ashore on a small inlet just south of the Tower. As Lloyd stumbled onto the sand, trying to get himself used to the feeling of solid ground beneath him again, he glared up at the mysterious building. It no longer seemed to stand tall and proud, symbolizing hope, but instead loomed, unnatural, curving against the sky with a crookedness he had not noticed before.

At Raine's command, encouraged by the pulsating warmth of his exsphere, he stepped toward it, his form shrinking down to nothing in its impossibly enormous shadow.

* * *

"Look at him. Following her around like a dog." Kvar leaned over the balcony, clutching the railing and wringing it as he would wring the neck of a helpless animal. "He's the reason I can't get any real research done."

Forcystus followed Kvar's gaze down into the yard, where A012 stood, her husband slouching meek and contrite beside her. He had to concede Kvar's point—Kratos did seem to devolve into a submissive animal in her shadow. In his defense, she always had a forceful presence, even while she lay in her coma.

"Can you get him to leave her alone?" Forcystus asked.

"No. He's stubborn. He's unreasonable, he doesn't compromise."

"Now, I know that's a lie. Did you not tell me that he willingly brought her to you to spare his son?" Kvar did not answer, and Forcystus took that as a concession. "Where is his son, anyway? You are keeping close track of him, are you not?" He watched Kvar's reaction carefully.

"No, we're not. The little bastard slipped away when we weren't looking."

"You should've expected as much," Forcystus said, trying to hide his smile. "That family is full of slippery people." Kvar glared at him with such intensity he was surprised the Cardinal did not reach out to push him off the balcony.

"Yes, well, it doesn't matter at this point whether or not we actually have his son. The point is, he _thinks_ we do. That is all we need."

"So it is probably best you keep him here, on his leash, where he belongs. Otherwise he might discover we have no leverage. Then we're all through." It made sense to Forcystus. Yggdrasill would not want the man killed, but he wouldn't want him tangled in their plans, either. To keep Kratos ignorant and occupied with alleviating the suffering of his wife was to keep him from sticking his nose where it did not belong; after all, his history of betrayal rendered him more of a liability than an asset, at least in Forcystus' opinion.

"That's why I have been tolerating his infuriating presence for this long. Even if he's keeping A012 from undergoing proper growth protocol, showering her with luxuries… gods, he is _sabotaging my hard work_."

"Respectfully, Kvar," Forcystus chuckled, "you're not the one growing it. She is."

"Respectfully, Forcystus, I tire of your unceasing commentary."

Forcystus turned from the balcony, taking his leave. "I will have my men keep a lookout for L033. You'll hear from me if we find him. If not, well, I suppose you will enjoy the view." He tried to simper as smugly as Kvar often did when he knew something others did not, but he was sure he couldn't exactly pull it off. It took a special kind of narcissist to match Kvar's grin.

"Get out," the Cardinal said.

Forcystus left Kvar to resume his watch, twisting the railing between his hands in fury. He did not see Forcystus smile as he walked out.

* * *

"Look at them up there," Anna said. "Plotting." Her eyes were raised to the balcony, where two figures stood against the bright sun, surveying the yard.

"It's more likely they're bickering," Kratos said. He followed her gaze up to the two Cardinals.

"Can't you hear them with those ears of yours? What are they talking about?"

Kratos fell silent, tipping his head toward the sky. She saw his ears twitching, trying to sort through the sounds of creaking machines, yelling captives, cracks of whips and the loud buzz of the ranch's electric fence. "I can't really hear them over this racket."

"Gods, what use are your senses if I can't spy on my captors?"

"I assure you, Anna, it's probably nothing important. Kvar and Forcystus bicker like an old married couple."

"Oh, I know. I've heard them. I keep waiting for them to drop the act and finally kiss." As she stepped across the grass, her weak legs failed her. She stumbled forward, only to discover Kratos' hand holding her arm, keeping her upright. She couldn't thank him.

"Careful," he said. "You should sit down. Sit and get something to eat."

"I don't need food," Anna muttered as he guided her to the doors to the facility. "I need a cocktail. You think you can do that?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Come on. Kvar's sure to have something around here to take the edge off."

"I'm sure he does. But I'm also sure it will not be good for you to drink in your state."

"Hell, Kratos. I'm dying. I'm not _pregnant_."

He sighed. "Fine. When I have time I will see if I can get something for you. In the meantime, you're sitting down and getting fed."

He led her back into the walls of the facility and to the guards' mess hall. A few straggling employees, hanging around to pilfer leftovers, immediately vacated the room when they spied Kratos enter. He sent word to the kitchen to get a meal going and led Anna to one of the couches, where she collapsed, lay her head back and put her feet up.

"Gods above, I haven't done anything today and I'm exhausted." Kratos pursed his lips. "You know, incubating one of these damned things actually _is_ a lot like being pregnant." She smiled at the look on his face. "You're sick, exhausted, growing something inside you that saps all of your nutrients, hungry all the time… Except I'm not throwing up as much as I did when I was carrying Lloyd around."

"It was terrible, I remember."

"I was angry with you, you know. I hated that you could be just as much of a parent as I could, but you didn't have to spend hours throwing up every day. You didn't have to push the little bastard out of you. You didn't have to suffer through any of that."

"It's just the way it works, Anna. If I could change it I would."

"You did make me some good medicine, though. I was amazed you could brew up such effective stuff from what we had. You know, nuts, leaves… grass clippings."

"I can still do it. I'll make you anything you need, if you're in pain."

"Like a cocktail?"

Kratos sighed. "I will do what I can."

When the cook emerged timidly from the kitchen and presented Kratos with two plates, he slid them both over toward Anna. The smell seemed to drift directly into her stomach, forcing it into a steady rumble. Kratos had made sure she was spared the gruel all the other prisoners had to consume, and often took her to a private place to eat. He would stare at her as she stuffed her face, asking her if it was all right, if she wanted more salt, more vegetables, if it was too hot or too cold.

When he saw her struggling to cut her meat one-handed, he leaned over and took the knife from her. "Considerate," she said bitterly. "Although I suppose you owe me as much, since you sliced up my arm in the first place."

Kratos flinched, but said nothing. He continued cutting the slab of meat, staring into her plate as if he could fall into it and escape her glare.

"Did you want to present the exsphere to them with my arm still attached? Was that it?"

He shook his head, then looked up at her. "You don't remember?"

"What is there to remember? You mutilated me and handed us over to the Desians."

Kratos lay down the knife and fork and folded his hands. "Lloyd told me you couldn't recall the incident. He said you told him it was too blurry to remember. I thought perhaps you were hiding things from him, so he didn't have to know."

"Know what?" For a moment, she feared Kratos would refuse to tell her.

"What you did. Why I had to…"

She placed a cube of meat on her tongue and raised her eyebrows at him, showing him she was listening.

"You… when it happened, the exsphere had completely taken over. You went insane. Your body... changed. You tried to kill Lloyd."

Anna spat. "Don't you dare. I would _never_, you know that."

Kratos started to weave his fingers in and out of one another. "You weren't yourself. You'd become… something else. You went for him, and I didn't know what to do. I thought cutting off the exsphere would stop it from killing you, and stop you from killing him."

Anna gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white. Her new exsphere burned, sending a terrible ache all the way to her shoulder. "What a sorry excuse. I'm not surprised you'd try to pin the blame for all this on me."

"It is the truth, though you may not believe it."

"I've heard that story before, Kratos. Of exspheres turning people into monsters. I've also heard that the world is flat. Some things I know better than to believe."

Kratos looked down at his hands. "You don't have to. I have said what I needed to say." He eyed her unfinished meal. "You should eat. You need to keep up your strength."

"For what?" she asked, but took another bite anyway. "For the exsphere? For Kvar?"

"For me."

"Even less reason to finish."

"Don't be childish, Anna."

"Oh, shut up, Kratos. Don't worry about me not eating. You know I can't pass up a free meal."

They both tried to smile, each in their own ways, but found that they couldn't.


	33. Close Proximity

Lloyd stood in formation, silent, indistinguishable from the Desians around him. It made him uncomfortable, sinking into anonymity amongst his enemies, but Raine had told him that was the point. He had to disguise himself as one of them in order to slip under Cruxis' radar. They were simply a surveillance unit doing a routine crossover into Tethe'alla. No big deal.

The other soldiers seemed blasé about the journey. He wondered if every Desian got to travel between worlds, if they had access to the intimate details of the Tower, the Regeneration, the angelic city. Raine seemed to know quite a bit about Welgaia, even though she said she'd never been to Derris-Kharlan.

She led them to the base of the Tower in silence, but they did not approach the doors. Only the Chosen, and a few other high-ranking members of Cruxis had access to it, and a scouting unit like theirs would most definitely be suspicious if they even looked at the doors the wrong way. Or so Raine had said. She led the troops down the side of the hill, toward the very base of the Tower, half submerged in the cliffside. The archway below the main hall was crumbling with age and eaten away by moss and other plants, but when Raine manipulated the apparatus on the side of the door, it slid away, revealing a hall bathed in blue light.

Lloyd tried not to appear too curious. But when she led them into the Tower, he could not help but look around. To his sides—nothing, just a wide space glowing green and eerily silent. He knew he shouldn't have looked up, he knew he was not allowed to deviate in any way from the Desians' monotonous lockstep, but he couldn't help but glance above him, at the contents of the Tower.

High in the blue-green haze, seemingly miles above him, he could barely spy a tiny walkway spanning the length of the building. And around that, dotting the air like specks of snow, floated distant, oblong shapes, spiraling up toward heaven, toward the very top of the endless Tower.

Then it was gone. The haze relented, the oppressive silence made way for the slight, welcoming rustling of plants in the breeze. Without knowing, he had passed beneath the threshold to the second world. He was on the other side.

He wanted to stop and fall to the dirt, to examine the soil, to sift it through his fingers and discover what was so different about Tethe'alla, from the ground up. He wanted to stare at the sky as it moved above him, and drink in the forceful blue; he wanted to stand and breathe in the thick air heavy with life, he desperately wanted to find out why the smell was so different over on this side… but he had no choice but to follow the troops out of the Tower and down the road. He kept his hands at his sides, his head facing forward, until they had marched far enough from the tower that Raine decided it would be appropriate to break formation.

Lloyd felt like he hadn't breathed that whole time. He bent over, panting, holding his knees, as Raine gestured to the rest of the unit, pointing this way and that.

"What now?" he asked Raine when she walked up to him. The rest of the soldiers were busy setting up tents and unpacking rations, but Lloyd wasn't sure what to do.

"The unit will make camp here," Raine told him. "We're going to be slipping away in the night, though. If anyone is watching from afar, they'll be less likely to see us break off from the main contingent."

"And then where are we going?"

"West. Once we reach the road we'll head north."

Lloyd wanted to ask her more questions. He wanted to ask her how the Tower connected one world to the other, what role it played in Regeneration, what that floating spiral of distant objects was. But another soldier outcompeted him for her attention, and she turned to the Desian instead, answering his questions about where to set up her tent, when to start the fire, who was eating what for dinner. Lloyd realized he would have to be satisfied with his own company for now, and stepped toward the edge of the camp, looking down across the fields that spread below him, glowing gold in the sunset.

The air in this world sank into him with a richness he had never felt before. He could not help spreading his arms to the sky, letting the wind blow past him, wishing he could take off his helmet and let it flow through his hair. He was still numbed by the realization that after so many years of thinking, _knowing, _Tethe'alla was merely an imaginary paradise made up by poets and storytellers, here he was, standing under its deep blue sky, breathing its fresh air.

One of the other Desians called him back to the main camp, telling him to stop behaving so suspiciously. Trips to Tethe'alla for supplies were routine—there should be no reason a single soldier would take such delight in his surroundings. Lloyd gave in, since he knew that if he were to bring too much attention to himself, Cruxis would find him and make sure he never saw his mother again. He dropped his arms and did menial work with the rest of the soldiers until night, when Raine summoned him to her tent.

She stood over a case of clothing, unpacking, spreading the garments across her bedroll. When he entered, she looked over her shoulder at him and frowned.

"You may take off that uniform now," she told him. "You won't need it anymore."

"Thank Martel," he muttered, removing his helmet. He struggled with his gloves next. "I can't stand these things."

"I know you can't," Raine said, lifting a flowing green robe and looking it over.

Lloyd sat down opposite her and unstrapped his gauntlets. "It's even worse with this thick air over here."

"Oh, you notice the difference?" she asked. "I thought only elven kind could."

"Things seem… a little heavier on this side. You know, the sky is brighter, the smell is different. It's…" he looked for the right word. "Saturated."

"Indeed it is. What you're smelling is an overabundance of mana."

"Mana, huh?" He managed to get one of his pauldrons unclipped. "It's real different from Sylvarant. Might have to do with the mana shortage on that side, I guess."

"You'd guess correctly," she said, turning a jacket over in her hands, examining it. "The balance of mana has tipped in favor of Tethe'alla for a long time. There hasn't been a successful Sylvaranti Regeneration to reverse it in as many years."

An idea clicked into place in Lloyd's head. "So that's what they mean when mana is restored, you know, during the Regeneration? Sylvarant is just sucking mana from Tethe'alla, isn't it?"

Raine turned to him, looking rather pleased. "Fine deduction, Lloyd. What led you to that hypothesis?"

He shrugged. "Well, the engine in my old desert hovercraft is coupled to an electric battery the same way. It charges by feeding off the fuel in the engine, and in turn the engine starts via the battery. Pretty basic stuff." He managed to take off his opposite pauldron, but had to have Raine help him with his thin breastplate. She reached around him to unbuckle the clips that held it in place, smiling widely.

"Why are you grinning like that?" he asked her.

"I just find your analogies charming. Like how your engine and battery feed off one another the same way the two worlds do." The weight of the breastplate coming off him was freeing. He rotated his arms, reveling in his returned flexibility.

She reached around to the case of clothes and handed him a pair of folded traveling garments, light brown and nondescript. "You will wear these. There are a few changes of clothes in the pack we've made for you."

He held them up. "What about you?" he asked, but she was already removing her uniform. He averted his eyes out of courtesy, but she didn't seem to mind his presence. She changed her entire wardrobe as dispassionately one might change a pair of shoes, and Lloyd figured he was expected to do the same. He swallowed the lump in his throat and undid his thick Desian undershirt, substituting it for the lighter traveling tunic.

"There are a few things you should know about Tethe'alla," Raine said, wrapping a long green cloak around her. "For one thing, there are no Desians here. There are no ranches. You are never to mention Desians or anything related to them. There are people who might overhear."

Lloyd nodded.

"Secondly, you are never, ever to refer to me as a half-elf. From here on out, I am a full elf. I'm from Heimdall—I have no human blood in me at all. Likewise, you have no elven blood in you."

"Why is that important?" Lloyd asked.

"You'll soon come to realize exactly how this world treats those of mixed race," Raine muttered. "It's much easier for us to pretend that I'm a full elf. Although, be prepared to get some stares anyway. People in Tethe'alla always fear the inevitable result of humans and elves commingling."

"Huh?"

Raine sighed. "Little half-elves."

It took Lloyd a second for it to sink in. "Oh." He tried to stop himself from turning slightly red. He just buttoned his shirt and slipped on the carmine jacket Raine handed to him. She pulled on her own, dark green trimmed with silver, and shook her hands out the bell sleeves. Lloyd had never met a full elf before, but it seemed like Raine was pulling off the look quite accurately. He'd seen an illustration or two from books his mother showed him. Of course, he couldn't read anything about them, but she had pointed to pictures and read to him when she had the chance.

"You really do look like you can pass for an elf," he told her.

"I did, for many years," she replied.

"I like the staff. It's a nice touch." He thought for a moment. "You've got elven blood, so you do magic, right?"

She lifted her robe and clipped a pistol to her thigh. "Not anymore." She reached over and handed him a bundle of supplies. "Here. Take your pack. I think it's late enough to go without being seen. We're going to sneak out the back."

He swung the heavy pack over his coat, and she led him out of the tent, past the fires, the soldiers' smaller tarps, through a group of Desians cooking a large pot of sweet-smelling soup. Raine stopped to lay her hand on the shoulder of what Lloyd assumed was her second-in-command.

"Take care of these boys," she said.

"Yes'm," he answered. "Nothing'll happen to 'em with you gone."

"Good. Forcystus should maintain contact with you throughout the campaign. Don't do anything stupid."

"Aye, ma'am." He saluted. "And good luck to you."

"You as well."

She slipped off into the darkness beyond the ring of tents, Lloyd in her tracks. They walked in silence for a little while, until he was sure that they were far enough away from the camp no spies would overhear.

"What are they doing?" he asked. "I mean, without you? Wasn't the whole point of them coming with us just to sneak us through the Tower?"

"Essentially, yes. But we send out scouting units all the time, to ensure that supplies of exspheres between the worlds aren't snagged by bandits. We need soldiers to keep the trade routes clear, to keep our own men safe."

"What's so unsafe about Tethe'alla?" he asked. Everything here seemed so peaceful, so satisfied with life. Even the trees seemed calmer, older. There was no sign of any decay or destruction, unlike Sylvarant, with its exhausted supplies of mana and food shortages.

"There's nothing particularly unsafe for you, as a human," she said. "For us, on this side, there is much to fear."

"What could Desians possibly fear?" he asked. "You guys have all the weaponry, all the power. You have guns, you have trucks and boats and exspheres. You already have such a big advantage over the rest of us."

He saw Raine shake her head, white hair shining in the dim light of the crescent moon. "We have weaponry, yes, but so do humans on this side. They have used that weaponry for centuries to keep us in line. The only way we have an advantage in Sylvarant is because of the mana shortage. Cruxis can tap into Tethe'alla's mana via the Tower, and the Desians feed on whatever Cruxis leaves left over. Humans don't have that advantage."

"So you guys have the Tower and we don't," he said. "How does it work, anyway? What were all those things in there?"

"You're going to have to be a little more specific about 'those things.'"

"The white things, all floating in a circle. You know, really high above us."

"Oh. Those are…" He couldn't see why Raine stopped talking, so he trotted up beside her to see what was wrong. She seemed to have fallen silent for no reason.

"They're what?"

"Those are Chosens. Failed Chosens."

"You mean… their bodies?" Nausea bubbled in Lloyd's stomach and he gripped the straps of his pack tighter.

"Yes. Those are the corpses of men and women who have failed the last step of the Regeneration."

"What is the last step?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you," she said. "I'm not sure I want to, either."

"Raine, what's the last step?" He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. She let him hold her arm, but didn't turn to face him.

"You were close to the Sylvaranti Chosen, were you not?" she asked.

"Kind of. We were friends. At least I hope we were friends." He paused, releasing Raine's arm, and followed her down the road. "I thought I was close to her. But I didn't even know she was the Chosen. What kind of friend was I, then?"

"It's likely she was not allowed to tell you, anyway."

"I guess she wasn't. But still… I should've known. I should've done more to protect her. But I never expected someone to come after her like that… she was just a normal girl, you know? We were gonna go see a play together."

"Do not distress yourself too much," Raine said. "She was going to die at the end of her journey, anyway. You likely would've never seen her again regardless if she was assassinated or succeeded in the Regeneration."

Lloyd stared at the dirt. "So, they all die at the end?"

"Every one. Successful or not."

He had heard the stories about the Chosens' journeys. How each one of them, step by step, ascended to the heavens as an angel. He supposed in the crudest sense of the word, it meant that they had to die. "That's… horrible." He grit his teeth so hard he thought they would crack. "I wonder if she knew. I wonder if she was going to go on her journey anyway, knowing she would die at the end."

"It's likely she knew," Raine said. "They usually do. The younger ones… the ones who get sent off to the Tower while still in childhood… I've read Church officials usually don't tell them. It's easier that way."

Lloyd clenched his fists, exsphere pulsating. He tried to quell the power flowing through him, tried to still the urge to lash out. "This is all Cruxis' doing, isn't it? The mana imbalance, the ranches, the Regeneration, the human sacrifice—it's all in their plan."

"Yes. Now you see why we have turned against them."

"But why?" Lloyd asked. "What's the point? What's their goal? What do they want so much they'd kill thousands of people to get it? Let whole worlds decline—put people in ranches?"

Raine stopped and turned on her heels to face him. "Does it matter, Lloyd? Is it not enough to know that they hurt people—humans, elves, and half-elves alike? They're the ones who ripped the world in two and made this broken system."

Lloyd looked down at his exshere, still glowing angrily. "No, you're right. It doesn't matter. If everything bad in the world is their fault, that's enough for me. If destroying them means I'll get my mother back, then I'll do it."

"Good. I hoped you'd say as much." She gave him one of her rare smiles and turned toward the west, where the sky was darkest.

Lloyd followed her for a while, thinking. When the sun rose behind them, coloring the fields a deep pink, he couldn't help smiling to himself. "Gods, only a few months ago, my biggest goal was to get my mother to remarry. I wanted to play oud at her wedding." He laughed. "Now look at me. Traveling the worlds. Rubbing elbows with Desians."

"Things change," Raine said. "Sometimes for the worst, sometimes in ways you'd never expect. But… what Forcystus said was correct. I know him well, so I know he will release both you and your mother after Cruxis falls. You can go back to your old life, your small goals." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You may send your mother my congratulations."

"Why don't you come to the wedding?" Lloyd asked. "You've never been to a Trieti wedding, I take it. They're pretty amazing. Lots of dancing, lots of drinking, bright costumes, tons of music. The whole town's usually invited."

"That doesn't really sound like my kind of gathering," Raine admitted. "Besides, by that time, I'll be… far away."

"On Derris-Kharlan?" Lloyd asked. "Forcystus said that's what you want. That you're going 'back home.' You and all the half-elves."

"If everything goes according to plan, yes."

"And Cruxis is stopping you from doing that?"

"Yes. They have control of Derris-Kharlan. They control the mana we need."

"I don't know why you can't just learn to get along with us down here, on the regular worlds."

"Proximity breeds violence. It's always been like that."

"Well, look at you and me. We haven't killed one another yet. You're even teaching me to read. If that's not proof it's possible, I don't know what is."

"Most people are not like you and me, Lloyd. Most people do not forgive wrongs easily. Most people cannot change old habits."

Lloyd thought of his father's chronic betrayal, his propensity for deceit. He had strung Lloyd along so successfully, so constantly… Maybe Lloyd could avoid being like him. Maybe he could change his own old habits.

He cleared his throat. "You know, ever since I was a kid, people used to tell me I was easy to trick. That it was easy to convince me to do stuff, to follow along and not ask questions. All my life, I've just been following other people. When I was little, at the ranch, I followed orders from guards. Then I followed my mother. Then I followed my friends in Triet. I followed the Renegades, and they double crossed me. I followed my father, and he did too. Now I'm following you."

Raine nodded. "I assure you it won't end the same way."

"Still, I don't want to follow you."

"And yet I'm not allowed to let you leave. I'm afraid you have to."

Lloyd shook his head. "I want to walk beside you. You have the same goals as I do. I've decided that if I have to help you in order to save my mother, in order to fix the world, then I'll do it willingly."

"That's a relief to hear," Raine said. "I'm sure Forcystus will be pleased as well."

"I'm not doing it for him."

"I know. It doesn't mean that we do not appreciate your cooperation. It's always nice when you do not have to manipulate your own allies. But then again," she sighed, watching her feet, "it is necessary sometimes."

"You're talking about Rodyle?"

"You're on the top of your guessing game today, Lloyd."

He shrugged. "Forcystus talked about him. About how he's nuts. Not surprised to learn that. Why do you work with him?"

"We need his resources. He has the most well-funded ranch in the world. His research experiments get a lot of support from Cruxis, so he has the money and equipment to give us what we need."

"What do you need? I mean, how are you gonna take down Cruxis? An army of angels doesn't seem like it's gonna fall easily."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Raine said. "That's in the far future. For now, all we need to do is keep our supply of energy from sputtering out. That's why we're in Tethe'alla in the first place. The company we're allied with is failing to deliver what it has promised. We're going to twist the president's arm and see how he reacts."

"Huh. I've never met a president of anything before."

"It's not going to be as fun as you might think. I've heard he's a shady businessman and a proper sleaze. But I've never met him."

"Well, I guess we'll find out what he's like when we get there. Where is there, anyway?"

"A place called Altamira. It's on an island, so unfortunately the only way to get there is by boat."

"Great."

"I, too, am not looking forward to the ride there. But we still have a few days before we get to Sybak. We might as well enjoy our time on dry land while we can. Besides, we'll have plenty of time on the ship to work on your writing. We still have a few dozen pages of your book to wade through, so we might as well resume sooner rather than later."

Lloyd groaned so hard it drew a mildly wicked chuckle from Raine. He pulled his pack tighter on his back and followed his captor-turned-teacher down into the verdant valleys of the prospering world.

* * *

"Did you think it would be easier for me if I got to see the outside?" Anna asked. She stood on the ranch's outer wall, watching the dark forest sway in the wind, shadowed by distant mountains. She knew she would enjoy the view, if she was a free woman. Now it seemed as if Kratos was deliberately tormenting her by showing her the world she would never get to travel again.

"I had hoped seeing it would ease some of the pain," Kratos said, laying an arm on hers. She didn't have the strength to pull away. "But if I'm wrong, we can go back inside."

"No, it's nice," she lied. She leaned out over the wall, wondering if she would die if she threw herself off. She concluded it wasn't high enough to guarantee it, so she stayed on the wall, simply watching the sun retreat behind the snowy peaks. "I haven't seen the mountains in a long time."

"I wasn't sure if you would miss them, considering…"

"Considering the first time I saw them, I was interned here?"

Kratos nodded. She saw his fist clench at his side, but didn't reach for it. He didn't deserve comfort. Not after all he did, all he lied to her about.

She couldn't believe he expected her to buy all his bullshit about her turning into a monster. She'd never seen it happen, she didn't know how a tiny stone like that could possibly turn a human being into a creature three times her size and ten times her strength. It violated all the laws of nature; it made no sense to her. Sure, she'd heard the stories from other prisoners, about how so-and-so turned into a wild, scaly beast and had to be put down, but she'd never seen it herself. And she certainly had never become one herself. She hadn't lost herself, she hadn't tried to kill her son.

She would never dare. Lloyd knew that. Kratos knew that. Everyone knew that. Didn't they?

Her hand gripped the railing as she looked out into the forest. "Look over there," she said.

Kratos glanced to where she pointed, at the rustling of the shadowy trees.

"What is that?"

A gunshot rang out from across the wall, and Anna's eyes found the source: two soldiers on the metal battlements, rifles in hand, shooting into the forest.

"Goddammit," Kratos muttered, stepping past Anna to the guards, reloading and getting ready to aim another shot.

"What is it?" she called after him.

"It's Noishe," he said. She didn't know how he could possibly tell from this far away, but she had long since learned not to question Kratos' preternatural senses. She watched him march across the wall, stride up to the two guards right as they discharged another bullet toward the rustling bushes, and grab the rifle. He twisted the gun out of the guard's hands and swung the stock up to meet his dismayed face. There was a crack of what Anna could only assume was breaking bone, and the guard stumbled off the edge of the wall and onto the grass below. Kratos leaned over the wall, tossed down his rifle after him, and turned to the remaining guard. The Desian knelt, raising his hands in supplication, and even from the other end of the battlements, Anna could see him shaking. Kratos just turned and started to walk back to her, purposefully, angrily.

She reached out for him as he leaned over the side of the wall, whistling. With a whine and a rustle, the creature came tripping out of the underbrush, lifting his head to greet his old family, or what was left of it.

"I didn't know he was still alive," Anna said. "I'd forgotten all about him."

Kratos sighed. "I wish he would've shown up sooner." He seemed dismayingly unfazed by the dog's sudden appearance. Anna knew he was no ordinary dog, so perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised by his tenacity.

Kratos just leaned over the side of the wall and shouted down to the poor animal. "Noishe! Get out of here!"

The dog barked in reply.

"Go find Lloyd. Go! Understand? _Go_ _protect Lloyd_!" He started shouting to the dog in an ancient language Anna couldn't comprehend, and she reached over to him and wrapped his elbow in her one remaining arm. He looked over his shoulder at her, scowling.

"Maybe he's trying to tell you Lloyd doesn't need his protection."

"Of course he does. Gods know where he is…" Kratos leaned back over the railing. "Go, Noishe! Get out of here!"

The creature padded in circles, whining, looking up at them with solemn eyes.

"Kratos… I don't think he understands."

"He does, he's just being stubborn. I have to go down there and illustrate my point." His wings appeared, spreading blue and white in the afternoon light, but Anna clutched his arm and refused to let go.

"Stay here, Kratos." She hoped she did not sound desperate for his company. "I think he's trying to tell you something, but you're not listening."

Kratos calmed, stared down into the animal's eyes, frowning. "Please go, Noishe," he said softly, perhaps hoping the air would carry his voice down to the dog's massive ears. "If you stay here you'll get shot. Go find Lloyd. I beg you."

The dog barked once, twice, and scratched at the ranch wall before retreating back into the forest.

"You think he got it?" Anna asked. She would not mind Noishe looking out for Lloyd, wherever he was. She knew he got lonely—having some company would be nice for him, animal or otherwise.

"I don't know, Anna."

"I thought you could understand him, and vice versa."

"Me too. I think I used to. Maybe the wild changed him a bit."

_We__'__ve all changed a bit_, Anna could not help thinking. She suddenly realized she was holding onto Kratos' elbow, and she dropped her hand back to her side, where it belonged. She did not pull away fast enough for Kratos not to notice. In response, he reached out and took her remaining hand, gently squeezing.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not yet."

Kratos turned back to the scenery, failing to let go of her hand. She wished she could pry him off, but he was clutching her only remaining method of doing so, so she just watched the sun set with him. She stood outside as long as she could, until exhaustion took over and he had to lead her back into the building, to lay on her cot. She knew as soon as she was comfortable, he would stand at attention outside her doorway, in case Kvar appeared at one end of the hall or the other.

When Kratos tried to leave her alone in her cold bed, she couldn't help but call after him. She didn't want him to think she would be lonely without him—she just had something nagging at the back of her mind.

"Kratos."

He stopped in the doorway.

Anna turned her head, tracing the outline of his shadow with her eyes. "I know you're a lot of things—and you've done a lot of terrible things. But I know you wouldn't hurt Lloyd if you could help it. I want to know why you couldn't help it."

She saw the shadow of his head tilt in the doorway—it always did that when when he was presented with a difficult question. He and Noishe shared that particular trait.

"I mean, why didn't you just let Lloyd go and come after me yourself? Why not just run off with him where Cruxis couldn't find you? He didn't need to see Kvar come for me, Kratos. That was just cruel of you to make him watch."

He lowered his head. "I tried to escape with him, once or twice. He didn't notice, but sometimes I'd take an isolated forest path, or make a wrong turn here or there. I tried to lose them in the wilderness. But every night, after Lloyd went to sleep, they would come out of the trees. Dozens of angels—and they would just stand there, staring at us. They were there to remind me we were being watched, that we couldn't escape."

Anna shivered at the picture of pale angelic faces emerging from the shadows, just standing, just watching. She conjured images of ghost stories she'd heard as a girl, but replaced each specter with an angel. A pale, silent, winged man following Lloyd up the stairs in the night, standing outside the window, emerging from the shadows of trees. She had to pull her ratty sheet closer to her to stave off the sudden cold.

"Do you need an extra blanket?" Kratos asked. He seemed to have forgotten about his previous monologue.

"I think so," she answered. She would not refuse his services merely out of pride; she knew better than that.

"All right. I will return in a moment."

When he left her alone, the room only seemed to get colder.


	34. Means and Ends

"Thank Martel," Lloyd sighed, when the distant smoke of a city rose up to the sky. "We can eat real food now."

"I told you my cooking is murder."

"I thought it couldn't be _that_ bad, until I tried it."

"Well, this is why I'm paid to concoct explosives, not meals."

"They're not that different," Lloyd said. "You put the right amount of this and that in a stewpot, and it should work out fine. But damn. Didn't your parents teach you how to cook?"

"Obviously not."

"Maybe they just never wanted you to get a boyfriend." He laughed. "You know what they say, the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

She sent him a glare that forced a bead of sweat down his forehead. "Utterly incorrect. The quickest way to a man's heart is through his ribcage."

Lloyd shut his mouth, but couldn't stop its corners from upturning a little. He didn't mind having to cook for her, especially if it meant avoiding her poisoning them both, but he wasn't the best chef either. His mother had often asked for his help in the kitchen, since navigating all those pots and pans with one arm proved to be difficult. He could steam rice, steep tea, he could cook meat all the way through, but he didn't have the knack for spices and flavors his mother did. His food wasn't good, but it was edible—more than he could say for Raine's.

He couldn't wait to fill his belly with something warm—preferably salty, deep-fried and with a side of spicy sauce. His stomach rumbled all the way to the gates of the city, but when he finally arrived in the shadows of the tall buildings, he substituted his hunger for awe.

"Whoa, Raine, are you _seeing_ these buildings?" he said, as she strode past him into the city, apparently uninterested. "They're huge!"

"Compared to anywhere in Sylvarant, yes, I suppose they are," she said. "But this is not the biggest city on this side. This is merely a college town. Meltokio is where the real architecture is."

Lloyd could barely follow her down the street, he was so preoccupied with scouting out the buildings around him, counting their floors, examining their window boxes filled with herbs and flowers. "Look at them! Look at those pipes running up the sides! Hey, Raine, do they have electric lights here?"

She glanced at him sadly. "Of course they do. Everyone has them. It's a basic amenity."

He skipped after her, elated. "Really? 'Cause in Palmacosta only the governor-general has them. The rest of us get oil and gas lamps."

"I know, Lloyd. I've been to Palmacosta."

"I mean, I'm just pointing out that—"

They arrived in front of an inn before he could continue. Raine stepped up to the door while he stared at the glowing sign. The letters flashed brightly, and he couldn't help but linger and admire it, before Raine motioned him irritably inside the building.

"Room for two, please," she said to the man over the counter.

He glanced at Lloyd, then Raine, then back to Lloyd again. "Separate beds. I'm not gonna be responsible for any crimes committed here."

"That's fine."

The man gave them two keys and she handed over some paper money Lloyd did not recognize. She grabbed his arm and led him to their small room in the attic, furnished with two tiny cots and a nonfunctioning table lamp.

Raine dropped her things beside the bed and lay on it, crossing her arms and staring at the ceiling. Lloyd followed suit, stretching his shoulders when he finally unburdened them from his pack. "Hey, Raine, what did that guy mean by us committing crimes?"

She looked over at him sadly.

"Oh. Little half-elves, I get it." She resumed staring at the ceiling as he took off his boots. "Why are they so afraid of half-elves here, anyway? There are no ranches, so why would there be any fear of them?"

Raine sighed. "It goes back a long way, Lloyd. Centuries. Millennia. Hatred of half-elves is as old as history itself. I don't know how it started, but I have some idea of how it might end. That's what gives me hope."

He stared at his dirty socks for a moment, unsure how to reply.

"Have you been reading your bird book lately?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"Yeah, I read about how a lot of species do this thing where, in the winter, they find someplace warm and have their babies there, and then fly back up when spring comes."

"Migration?"

"Yeah, that's it. It's weird, though. There were no seasons in Triet, really. Just hot, and a little less hot. Not a lot of birds, either, once you leave the oasis." Lloyd stood, stretching, before he went to their small casement and peered out into the city. "Wow, there's so much stuff here. Look at those machines down there! And those!" He didn't care that Raine was not watching. His eyes moved across the street to a massive grayish building standing tall against the white sky. "What's that big building? The one with the tower?"

"That's the University," Raine said. He could not help but detect a hint of disdain in her voice.

"Can we go look at it?" he asked.

"No. You're not to go anywhere near it, do you hear me?" Raine sat up, suddenly, fiercely, and Lloyd backed away from the window.

"Why?"

"Because—just because." She lay back down, scowling.

"Okay, then." He waited for a moment before sitting beside her. "Wanna go get something to eat? I'm starving."

"No, I'll stay in here."

"It's barely afternoon. You can't stay up here all day."

"I can."

"Come on, Raine, you've gotta eat."

"Then bring me something."

Lloyd sighed. "I don't know how to count this weird money over here. You're gonna have to come help me."

"Gods above, Lloyd, it's the same currency, just inflated."

"I don't even know what that means."

Raine sighed. "Fine. Just don't keep me out for long."

He smiled as Raine pulled herself off the bed, scowling, head down. He dragged her out of the room and down the rickety stairs, past the glowering innkeeper and into the harsh sunlight. After stopping at a small food stand to fill themselves up, he spied a tempting shop on the other side of the square. "Come over here," he said, pulling her across the grey piazza, toward a stand piled high with old machine parts, clicking and whirring and glinting in the sun.

"What a bunch of dreck," she said, as he knelt by the stand and examined just about everything he could. Raine stood by, arms crossed, avoiding eye contact with the man behind the stand.

"There are books over here," Lloyd said. He pushed a pile of old parts away to reveal a stack of dusty tomes. That piqued her interest enough for her to kneel beside him, sorting through them, reading the covers.

"These are all so out of date," she said. "But here's one you might like, for when you're tired of learning about birds." She slid a book over to him, and he struggled to read the cover.

"A hi… a—of… magi… tech, um… _A History of Magitechnology_." At this point he was more guessing than reading, but Raine's pleased smile told him he'd been correct. She picked the book up and dusted it off, turning a few pages. She was already engrossed in the old text when Lloyd returned from the junk pile, holding what appeared to be a hilt without a blade.

"What the hell is this?" he asked the man sitting behind the stand.

"Press the lever on the side."

Lloyd toggled the button and a long, curved blade arced out from the hilt and glinted in the sunlight. "Whoa, cool," he couldn't help but run his finger along the edge, to find it still sharp. "You got another?"

"Yeah, we got lots. They're good for when you gotta hide 'em, you know. There aren't a lot of places where you're allowed to carry weapons out in the open."

"Really?" Lloyd dug through the pile of trash until he found a matching, equally sharp knife. He turned to Raine, and prodded her with the hilt until she glanced up from her book. "Can I get these? Do you have enough money?"

She looked down at the knives and frowned. "I suppose you ought to keep yourself alive with something. And I can guess you're not going to slit my throat in the night."

Lloyd shook his head.

"Fine, then. Get them. Here's some money. Pay for this book, too. I'm going to go over to that park bench and read for a while." She dropped a few coins in his palm and retreated with _A History of Magitechnology_ to the small park across the square.

Lloyd continued searching the junk pile for anything of value. His greatest longing was to come across a discarded but working string instrument, but as luck would have it, he produced only garbage. He found a flute with a crack running down its middle, and half of a guitar neck.

He gave up on finding an instrument, and forked over what he thought might be far too much for the knives and the old book. He made his way across the square, back to Raine.

She sat in the shade of the park's largest tree. Lloyd, not entirely dissatisfied with his purchase, sat beside her and lay his knives on the grass. He looked up into the shadows of the branches, reveling in the sweet scent of green that drifted from its leaves. He had the sudden urge to climb, so he dropped his stuff, grabbed a branch and hoisted himself up.

Once, when he was small, Ezra had dared him to climb a palm tree by the oasis. He had been terrified, but the other children's jeering had driven him up the trunk, squeezing it between his bare feet as he slid up, up toward the white-blue sky. The sun was so bright he couldn't see where he was going, what he was holding onto. All he heard was the yelling of other children as he made his way toward the top.

When his sweaty palms started to slip, he barely had time to gasp before he fell toward the ground, flailing. He had wanted to cry out, but he didn't have the time. He just tumbled silently off the trunk of the palm tree and landed in the dirt. The other kids gathered around him, but when he stood up, they took off, each in a different direction, presumably to avoid trouble. Lloyd wondered why they all left, until he looked down at himself and noticed a hideous bump in his arm. It dangled in front of him uselessly, numbly, bending in a way he knew it shouldn't.

It didn't start to hurt until he ran all the way home to his mother. He showed her his arm, all bent out of shape, and she dragged him across town to Triet's only bonesetter. She asked him how he managed to break his arm so thoroughly, and he told her.

"Gods, Lloyd. You need to learn to climb a tree properly." She held his hand, smiling at him, as the doctor went to work on his other arm. "Did you make it to the top?"

Lloyd, hazy with pain, tried his best to answer. "Yes. No. I think so. It was bright."

Anna laughed, not unkindly. She never laughed unkindly, even when he expected it. She fed him a slick potion that made him sleepy and dulled the pain, and chuckled with him as he slowly faded into delirium. From that point on she called them the crippled family, and taught him how to live without the use of one arm—she thought it was so funny how they matched. Her kindness, her enthusiasm for his injury, dulled the embarrassment and the pain, and soon he began to tote around his broken arm with nothing but pride. It was his and his mother's celebration of the injury that he stopped being talked about as the kid who broke his arm, but was known for months after as the kid who bravely made it to the top of the palm tree.

As Lloyd pulled himself up the Tethe'allan oak's massive trunk and threw his legs over the lowest branch, his heart contorted. He wished his mother could be here now, in this huge, beautiful city. She would've liked it much better than Palmacosta. It even had a decent green area.

He swung upside-down, his face coming to a stop in front of Raine's. Her eyes shot up to meet his, and she frowned. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He shrugged as best he could, being upside-down. "Climbing a tree."

"Well, stop it. I can't read with you dangling there like an idiot."

He grinned at her. "It's fun. You need to learn to have fun sometimes."

"I have no time for that."

He crossed his arms, blood pooling in his face. He swung slightly back and forth, gripping the branch in the backs of his knees. "Right after I got out of the ranch, I had trouble having fun, too. I had trouble understanding what it was. I couldn't see the use in doing anything that didn't help me survive. I didn't know how to play, or how to pet an animal. I didn't laugh. All I cared about was getting enough to eat and keeping my body safe."

Raine closed her book. "Those are very important things, Lloyd. It's no sin to have those as your top priorities."

"Yeah, but once you have those taken care of, what next? What else are you gonna do with your time?"

She sighed. "Learn, I suppose. It's what I try to do."

"Yeah. Learn to play. Learn an instrument. Learn to cook. Learn to climb a tree."

"I'm not climbing that tree with you."

Lloyd gripped the branch in his hands and swung backward, pulling his feet over his head and landing in the soft grass. "I don't expect you to. Obviously you haven't learned to cook either."

She swatted his arm with the book. "I'm tired of this conversation, Lloyd. Can we just get back to the inn?"

He grabbed her arm. "Just wait a minute, don't you wanna go explore some more?"

"No."

"Come on, what about the University? They're just a really big school, right? So it'll have a ton more books. You would want to go to their library, I'll bet."

"No, I don't."

"Aw, come on—"

She pulled out of Lloyd's grip with such ireful force he recoiled. "Let me alone, you filthy—don't touch me." Her voice quavered, and he could see her eyes start to water, before she stormed away, toward the inn, gripping the book on magitech to her chest. Lloyd stared after her, arm still outstretched for a few seconds. He eventually curled his fingers back in his palm and returned his hand to his side. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his exsphere pulsed slightly, and his stomach twisted around itself when he watched Raine nearly run across the plaza to the safety of the rickety old inn.

He wondered what he had done to upset her. Maybe he shouldn't have grabbed her—it wasn't his place. Maybe she was afraid of this town, somehow, and him dragging her around only worsened her anxiety.

He didn't know what else to do but follow her back to the inn, readying apology after apology. He walked past the still-scowling innkeeper, making his way up the stairs to their tiny room. Raine sat on the bed, staring at the wall.

"Raine, are you all right?" he asked. She just sighed in reply. "I'm sorry," he said. He walked up to her and dared to sit beside her. She didn't tell him to move, so he lay his elbows on his knees and folded his hands contritely between them. "What is it?" he asked.

Raine looked to his hands, then to her own, clasped tightly into fists. "I just don't like this place."

"You're scared of something," he said.

"I'm not scared, I'm just…" She shook her head, grimacing. "Lloyd, it might do you some good to understand how it is for half-elves over on this side. You might sympathize."

The statement seemed to appear from nowhere. "What do you mean?"

"When I was a child, I ran from the University the same way that you ran from the ranch. I was with my mother, too. And my father. We all moved from place to place, trying to sink into anonymity, all so they wouldn't find us. Down there, in the labs, they make half-elves slave away, unpaid, never seeing the sun, never allowed to leave. They make them perform experiments on one another. It's similar to what goes on in a human ranch, but in Sylvarant, the ranches are isolated operations, far from human society. Here, half-elf slavery is a normal part of life, for everyone. Governments condone it. They fund it. The Church of Martel gives the University money, and the royal family lends their support to the Church… Everyone has their hands in each other's pockets, and it's the half-elves who pay the price."

"You mean, people know about what half-elves go through, and they don't do anything?"

"Why would they? It's for their benefit. Free labor. Unlike in Sylvarant, where humans have their own settlements, half-elves can't even walk around freely. They're either in a state of indentured servitude or in hiding altogether. Many of them live in the wilderness, in barren wastes, high above the ground… wherever they can avoid humans, they do. I don't blame them."

"Me neither." He reached out to touch Raine's arm, and she didn't pull away. "I didn't know."

"That's why… among half-elves, Sylvarant is seen as a promised land. Half-elves here dream of moving over there the same way humans on your side might dream of moving over here." She sighed. "But no matter where they are, there will always be tension."

"And you think the only way to end it is to go back to Derris-Kharlan?"

"Yes. It's the source of our elven blood. It's abundant in mana. We could make a home there. We could survive—thrive, even."

"Will you live alongside the angels?" he asked, thinking of that strangely motionless, winged man in Welgaia.

Raine gave him a sad look. "No. They're not alive, anyway. They're merely shells of living beings, wasting away in mindlessness. If Cruxis gets its way, we'll all be like that. That's why we have to take Derris-Kharlan back from them."

"How on earth are you gonna do that?"

"We have a few tricks up our sleeves. A few weapons we can use to blast Yggdrasill into oblivion." He assumed this Yggdrasill person was Cruxis' leader.

Lloyd's eyes wandered to the book on the bedside table. "Magitech weapons?"

"Yes."

Lloyd lay his forehead in his hands and groaned. "What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered.

"You know, I think your talents might help us when it comes to building our machinery. I've never met a less-educated human being, but your instinct for the subject is uncanny."

"I don't wanna build anything that kills people."

"It's not going to kill anyone," she said. "No one who isn't already dead, anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Don't worry about that," Raine answered. "The point is that we are not building powerful machinery to massacre anyone. We just want to clear a path so that we can get home."

"Home…" Lloyd muttered. Forcystus had called it that as well. He wondered if Raine was allowed to refer to Derris-Kharlan as home if she'd never been there. But his sense of the word was less instinctual than others', since he hadn't been exposed to the idea of a home until he was at least eight. He started to miss the dry air, the chilly nights and harsh winds of Triet. "Hey. Have you ever been to the desert?" he asked.

"No. I haven't."

"I think you'd like it. It's far away from the ocean. There's no water for miles and miles, and it never rains. The sky is always clear."

"It sounds better than most places."

"It is. It can be hard sometimes, and you need to know what you're doing, but there's no better feeling than walking out into the desert alone, under the stars. There's no one around for miles."

"That sounds… quite nice, actually."

"It's really quiet."

"Gods, what I wouldn't give for some quiet."

"And you never have to get on a ship to go anywhere."

"Ha, I'll drink to that," she said. She paused for a moment. "In fact…" She reached into her bag and pulled out a generous silver flask. "Unfortunately we're going to board a boat tomorrow. Might as well enjoy ourselves before the seasickness settles in."

"No kidding." He smiled as she opened the flask, taking a swig. She handed it to him and he struggled to keep it down. She took it back, taking another two gulps. She licked her lips before offering him another drink. He wondered if he could possibly keep up with her. The most he had drunk was a glass of wine or two with his mother, and one time behind the inn when Ezra pilfered a bottle of poorly-distilled rum from his parents. "What is this?" he asked.

"Palmacosta rye. Unpalatable garbage, isn't it?"

"Yeah, kinda." He took another sip anyway. "Palmacosta isn't famous for having classy drinks, though."

"Palmacosta doesn't have class at all," she agreed. "Too many sailors, too many whores."

"Why do you hate it so much? Did you have to live there?"

"For a while. After… I came over. From here."

"So, how did you get to Sylvarant?"

"That's a long story. Probably one that you don't want to hear."

He handed her back the flask and she took a sip. "I'm all ears," he said. "I have nowhere important to be."

Raine's cheeks flushed a little and she stared at the wall, perhaps considering regaling him with her story. He almost sighed in relief when she finally began to speak. "My mother… when I was young and my brother was just born, she sent us to Sylvarant. She thought we'd be better off there, but she couldn't come with us. She was clever enough to find a place that connected the two worlds and abandoned me there. I didn't understand what she did or why she did it for years, until… I came over here and found her. She's living in a half-elf settlement, wasting away. She's gone insane. I tried to explain to her who I was but she didn't recognize me. She insisted she was still pregnant with Genis." Raine lay her forehead on a fist. "I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth. I haven't been back since."

Lloyd figured Genis was her little brother. "What happened to her to make her like that?"

Raine took a gulp, grimacing at the taste—or perhaps the sheer volume of her swig. "I don't know. I remember even knowing as a kid that she was always a little nuts. But I think maybe she went mad with guilt. It was as much as she deserved, to be honest." Raine clenched her fists. "Maybe it started after my father died. I don't know. I don't care."

"So you lived alone in Sylvarant, with no parents?"

"No parents, but not alone. I had my little brother with me. He…" she fell silent for a moment, before Lloyd nudged her to go on. "He was just a baby. But I managed to take care of him, somehow. I took advantage of many a kind stranger, and moved around when I overstayed my welcome."

"What happened to him?"

Raine gripped the flask, gritting her teeth. "When I was nineteen, I started looking for a job. I faked some teaching credentials, thought I could probably make it as some sort of schoolteacher. I wasn't good at anything else—I wasn't strong, I couldn't cook or clean or do manual labor. I knew how to read and write, and that was pretty much a qualifier for any teaching position in rural Sylvarant. I thought we'd be able to live in the country for a while, away from the cities, away from Desians. I didn't want to get caught up in the interracial drama—the raids in Palmacosta, the skirmishes in Asgard. So I went to the Iselia region. But ever since the Chosen was displaced and the village burnt down, the settlements around the area were rife with anti-half-elf sentiment.

"I was passing myself off as an elf at that point, but the remaining people around Iselia were suspicious of me. They wouldn't let me stay in their barns or houses, they wouldn't give me directions. In retrospect, I should've realized I'd long overstayed my welcome. I should've moved on earlier. But I didn't. I was making camp, when one of the old villagers… a man who had turned me away earlier that day, snuck up on us. There wasn't really anything I could've done at that point. He kept shouting slurs at us, he grabbed Genis. I tried to calm him down, but I didn't see he had a knife. He was crazy, he said we killed his family, and then he cut Genis' throat.

"It all went so fast, I didn't know what to do. I think at that point, the man might have realized what he'd done, so he ran off. I tried to heal Genis, but I didn't know what to do with him. I tried to help him, but I couldn't. The wound was too deep. I couldn't take him to any human homesteads. There was only the ranch, so I picked him up and tried to carry him all the way there.

"Forcystus found us before we reached the ranch, though. Some of his men rushed off with Genis, carrying him back to the medical facility. It was too late by that point, though, and I think we all knew it. Still, Forcystus did his best to comfort me. He said he'd suffered a similar tragedy, when his own town was set upon by human hordes. He gave me food, a place to stay for a while while I recovered. He gave me work, he gave me something to do, to think about. He put my skills to use, more than any humans ever could. So I stayed.

"I suppose, looking back on it, I became a Desian because I thought it would justify what happened to my little brother. If I were innocent of crimes against humanity, then he would've died for no reason." She looked up at Lloyd, eyes dry. "I became a Desian because I had already paid the price for being a Desian. All half-breeds are born guilty of one crime, and we all pay for that crime at some point or another. Might as well give them something to punish you for."

Her insistent self-indictment seemed to draw the haze from Lloyd's brain, and all of a sudden he found himself distressingly sober. Distressingly sober and self-consciously speechless. Fortunately for him, Raine, still under the influence of the contents of her flask, continued.

"Forcystus was the one who gave me free reign of Tethe'alla. He lent me the resources I needed to return here. It's because of him I was able to find my mother. It's because of him that I'm still around." She looked up at Lloyd. "So don't give him trouble. He is doing what he's doing for the good of all half-elves. And by extension, the good of humans and elves, too."

Lloyd glanced at his feet. "I'm not sure if I can believe that. He still has a ranch. He still tortures people."

"You haven't been to any other ranches besides his, Lloyd. His is by far the least cruel."

"That doesn't mean it's right."

"I take it you're not a man for whom the ends justify the means."

"Well, no. What are the means, anyway? Just a whole bunch of ends. A whole bunch of ends for the people he kills. For the people he hurts."

He stopped talking when he saw Raine staring at him, smiling. "And to think I was under the impression you were ignorant," she said.

He turned red, got up off the bed. "I am. I talk a big talk about doing the right thing, but here I am, working for the bastard."

Raine lay back down, folded her hands behind her head. "That's how the real world is. You can't always do right. But you can minimize your wrongs."

"I don't want to settle for that."

"You're going to have to. Now get some sleep." Raine closed her eyes and yawned. "We leave early tomorrow for Altamira."

He sighed, took off his shoes and threw them to the foot of his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, watching it circle above him. "Hey, Raine—" He looked over at her, but she was already on her side, arms tucked up to her chest, snoring slightly. He threw the blanket over her before tucking himself into his own bed and drifting off.


	35. A Short Relapse Into Levity

Lloyd drank in the glowing skyscrapers of Altamira with an enthusiasm that apparently disconcerted Raine.

"Will you close your gaping maw?" she nudged him as he stood in awe at the entrance to the city. "It's not that interesting."

"But look at them! Look at how they're all lit up! It's insane—where do they get all that power, how do they run it all through the city like that?"

"That will take a while to explain," Raine sighed. "I don't really have time to walk you through all of it. We just need to get to the hotel and I need to make a call." She led Lloyd into the city, between the shadows of tall buildings glinting in the setting sun. Lloyd could barely keep track of her movements with all those distracting lights flashing in every direction. Words he didn't know and couldn't read danced around him, neon outlines of female figures, dancing purple and pink coins falling into the pocket of a glowing businessman, the bright triangular shape of a cocktail glass. It was a miracle that he managed to follow Raine to the hotel without stopping to take apart one of those signs.

The lobby amazed Lloyd more than the exterior. He stood beside Raine, looking up to the tall glass ceiling, translucent ropes of silk hanging down from the highest story to the tip of the gurgling fountain. Raine told him to stay there and don't cause trouble while she walked up to the reception desk and spoke with the woman there. After a few minutes, she strode back to him and motioned for him to follow her to the elevator. On the way up to their floor, he pressed himself against the glass, watching Altamira spread out before him.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, pointing to a congregation of baffling, brightly colored machinery, twisting and turning in the dimming light.

"That's the theme park," Raine answered disdainfully.

"What the hell is a theme park?"

"It's where idiots and their idiot children aggregate to indulge in deep-fried food and ride in circles on useless machines."

"So that, right there—" he pointed to a tall rail that stood above the rest of the park. What looked like a small car zipped along its tracks, dangerously fast. "You ride on that? For fun?"

"That's the idea."

Lloyd laughed. "These are my kinda people." He started to miss his hovercraft, miss the wind and the speed. He decided that the first chance he got, he'd take a stroll down to that strange park.

He almost forgot about the park entirely when Raine opened the door to their room.

"Holy shit!" He couldn't help himself. He danced around the suite, leaning over the balcony, looking down on the city below. "It's huge! Gods, it must cost a fortune to stay here."

"It does. Which is why Forcystus pays."

"Man… maybe one day I can be rich. _El__á _would get a kick outta this room. Much better than our old tent." He turned to Raine to see her disinterested, on the far side of the room, fiddling with some sort of communication device on the wall. She sat mumbling into it, one hand on her hip, the other holding it to her face.

"Yes, he should be expecting me at some point. No—" She groaned. "What do you mean he's out? Who is this? This is a representative of Lord Rodyle. You get the President on or I'll—at least—yes, tomorrow will have to do. Yes. No. Goodbye."

She scowled, clicked off the communicator and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Well, we can't get in until tomorrow. We have all night to sit around. Maybe get some lessons in. We can take some data on that exsphere."

"No way," Lloyd said. "Just look at this place. It's amazing. You can't just stay up here when there's all that going on down there! At least let's go get a bite to eat." When she shook her head, he decided to entice her with something a little more effective. "They have cocktails down there."

He saw the temptation flutter in her eyes, before she sighed and acquiesced. "I suppose we have time for a drink or two," she said. She followed him out of the room and down the elevator, and emerged out into the busy street.

"Whoa, everyone has exspheres here," Lloyd muttered.

"Yes. It's not uncommon. But here they don't know where they come from."

"That's… really sad."

Raine sighed. "There are a lot of things about Tethe'alla that are sad."

"Well, let's forget about those things, then. Just for a little while. I want to go in there." He pointed to a large building lit up with bright lights.

"There? Lloyd, that's a strip club."

"A what?"

"Let's go here instead." She indicated another place, smaller but no less bright. It didn't matter to him—everything was so saturated in neon lights it was hard to tell one place from another. She brought him inside and sat him down in a booth, reclined across from him and looked over the drink menu.

"Whisky, neat," she told the man who stood at attention beside their table. "And bring me the girliest drink you have." He nodded and disappeared into the haze of bright light and music.

"This is such a weird place," Lloyd admitted.

"It is."

"So tell me about this company president guy. What's he like and why are we meeting him?"

"He's the owner of the Lezerano exsphere company. All those exspheres you see the pedestrians wearing? Those are all his. He mines the materials here in Tethe'alla, and then they're sent to the ranches to be refined into real exspheres. Then we ship them back and he makes a fortune."

Lloyd gripped the edge of the table. "Inter-world shipping, huh? And we're the ones who pay for it."

"Oh, yes. But it's business as usual for Lezerano. The only hiccup they've had so far in profits was a murder scandal a few years back. It just started as a regular sex scandal—high-up president stooping to propose to a servant. Then things got a little more violent. He apparently decided to call off the marriage by disposing of her. He choked her to death and left her body on the rooftop."

Lloyd felt a little sick. "What the hell…" he muttered.

"Unfortunately for justice, people like him can afford to avoid jail. Apparently the whole affair did nothing but put a tiny dent in profits for a little while. Seems that after all that, the company came out stronger for it. They treated the scandal like advertisement and made more money than ever." Raine sighed. "Humans."

The waiter returned with their drinks, set the whisky in front of Lloyd. He reached out for it, but Raine's hand found it first, and she pushed what looked like a pink cocktail toward him. He took a sip, licking his lips, then another one as she nursed her own drink.

"Unfortunately for us, they're the only viable company around that can meet our demand for raw materials. Their mining operations are something to truly behold."

"Hope I never do," he said, taking another sip. "This is really good. What is it?"

"No idea. But it seemed like you'd like it." She gave him a grin.

"You want some?"

"No. I don't have that much of a sweet tooth."

"Your loss," Lloyd said, before ordering another one.

Around his fifth helping of that particular cocktail, he considered slowing down. Raine watched him carefully, listening to him ramble on about how to fix this and that, how his hovercraft worked, what he could build and how to build it. He told her about his bombs in Triet, about the vehicles in the desert, about the circuitry in the human ranch. He told her about his old job, crawling through the shafts and shadows of the prison he'd grown up in.

"I reckon here they make half-elves do stuff like that," he said.

"Yes, they do."

"Goddammit," Lloyd muttered, resting his head between his hands. "I don't blame you for going to Sylvarant." _Just like no one would blame any humans if they wanted to move here. _

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Although, I really can barely blame my mother for ditching me. Over here, you rape or kill a half-elf, and judges look the other way. But if a halfie so much as crosses the street at the wrong place, it's straight to the slaughterhouse for them."

Lloyd clutched his aching head. "This shit is heavy," he said. "I thought we were drinking to forget about it."

"Well, it's difficult to escape ubiquitous inequality," Raine said.

Lloyd lay his head on his crossed arms. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh come on, it's not that difficult of a conversation."

"No, I'm really gonna…" He got up, stumbling out of the booth and toward the door. Raine slapped a few bills down on the table and followed him out, taking his arm and leading him away from the door, to an alley behind the building. She patted his back as he bent over, head swirling, and threw up five drinks and a few snacks into the gutter. When he stood up, he felt only marginally better. He held his head, groaning.

"It was all that sugar," Raine said. "Shouldn't have had that many."

"Yeah, sugar sounds like a good idea."

"It's not. We should get you back to the hotel."

"Nah, I'm going to the theme park."

"Lloyd, wait—"

She followed him down the street, trying to keep him from stumbling across bridges, down stairs, until he sat himself down in the only railcar that seemed to depart in the direction of the park.

"Last train tonight, kid," the conductor told him, and he waved him on. Raine barely had time to jump on after him before it crawled across the surface of the water and came to a creaky stop at the entrance to the park. He stumbled off the train, Raine following, and stood staring at the massive machines, now sleeping, lights dimmed.

"All the rides are off," he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. There were still a few booths open, selling candy to stragglers leaving the park. "I'm gonna go see what they have," he told Raine, who sat herself down on a bench and watched a family try to drag their crying son away from the closing rides.

When he returned from the booth, a fortune's worth of candied walnuts in hand, he sat down beside her. She looked sullen, refusing to take her eyes off a couple dangling a child between them. He waved his hand in front of her face and she turned to him.

"What are you watching other people's kids for, ya creep?" he asked.

"Sometimes I like looking at people. From far away, I mean. I see a lot of them, some with kids, some with little boys. Sometimes… I'll catch a glimpse of one that looks so much like my little brother, I'll consider just… taking him. When his mother isn't looking, I'll just take his hand and walk away with him, and never come back."

"Whoa, that's—"

"A little twisted, I know. Of course I would never actually do it. Besides, I can't give a child a good life. I've already been a horrible sister, and I'm sure I'd be a worse mother."

Lloyd had no reason to disbelieve her. She was so unlike his mother in so many ways, he couldn't imagine her raising someone. But still, when he glanced into her face, he saw a little hint of motherliness she did too good of a job hiding.

He wondered if Anna would like her. They didn't have too much in common, except maybe smarts. But even then, the two women boasted very different forms of intelligence. Anna was socially adept, resourceful and an ingenious improvisor. Raine was meticulous, systematic, and had stockpiles of knowledge that could put a library to shame.

He wondered what his mother would say, if she saw him sitting here, blasted, moping about. She'd probably be disappointed he wasn't taking advantage of his surroundings. She might feel even worse he was subjecting Raine, the only friend he had, to his self-pity.

"Hey, Raine," he said, crunching a couple walnuts.

"What?"

"Let's go play."

"What?"

"Yeah, let's go get one of those rides up and running. I bet we could do it. Let's go have some fun."

"No, Lloyd. We can't possibly turn one of those on without being caught. Those rides are for children, anyway."

"Come on…" he stood up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her off the bench. She tottered a little, trying to steady herself. "Hey, I have a real good idea." He started off back toward the train, to the tiny, empty station hidden safely in darkness. By the time they got there, the streets had emptied, the stationmasters had gone home and left the little train unguarded. He knelt by the control board and smiled. "I bet we could rig this thing to go really fast."

"No, Lloyd…"

"What? Don't worry about the water, it's shallow enough to stand up in. You'll be fine. Come on, Raine." He bent and pried open the metal door to the circuitboard, glancing inside. "You go get the engine to turn on. You might have to hot-wire it if you can't find any keys."

"Are you seriously…" she didn't need to finish asking, since he pulled out two yellow wires from the board and started twisting them together. "Oh, gods, _fine_." She jumped into the little train and began fiddling with the controls. He heard a loud metallic squeak and figured she'd disappeared somewhere under the steering, trying to get the thing up and running. He thought it was kind of nice to have another capable technician around. Maybe together they could build something amazing.

He bit his lip, tipping back and forth, concentrating. When he finally managed to override the security on the control, he glanced up and saw Raine standing at the front of the little train, engine gurgling.

"Sweet," he muttered, and jumped down beside her. "How do you work this thing?"

"Well, it looks like this lever controls the speed—"

He pushed it all the way forward and the train took off like a rocket, spewing white foam in its tracks. The engine began to scream, and the whole thing shook on its rails as it sped toward the first corner.

"Hold on," Lloyd grinned, seawater spraying in his mouth. The shallow ocean swelled over the front of the machine in an angry splash, filling the space at their feet. Raine clung to his arm for dear life as the train tipped around the corner, inner wheels leaving the rails entirely. On the other side, they splashed back down, and started to pick up speed in earnest.

He never thought he'd manage to get a dinky public transport vehicle like this going as fast as his hovercraft back home, but as the salty air flew past him, deafening him and drying his eyes, he couldn't help but feel a little proud. He kept the train geared up, speeding forward, spraying and howling with effort.

The rails creaked, the engine wailed in agony, and he thought he heard Raine screaming. When he glanced over at her, her mouth was upturned, her eyes closed, her laughs coming out in panicked, desperate spurts. Drops of shining seawater flew from her silver hair, glinted across her cheeks, drying rapidly in the wind.

He was so busy looking at her he failed to notice the second turn. She pointed, mouthing something he couldn't hear, and he looked back only in time to realize what was happening. The train hit the curve with such force it flew from its rails, tipping sideways. Lloyd flailed, not sure exactly what he was trying to hold on to, as inertia thrust him over the side of the train car and straight into the water. He flopped under the surface, gasping, and struggled to find his way upright. His head spun, he felt sick, but his feet found the sand and he stood up, water dripping off him.

"Raine?" he called to the dark, foaming water. The water was up to his waist, but if she had hit her head, she could easily still be under there, unconscious…

She broke the surface right as he started to worry. Her hands splashed the water desperately, ineptly. "I can't—" she gargled.

"Stand up!" he called back.

She took his advice, rising slowly from the water. She shook out her hair, gasping, red-faced. She shivered, hugging herself, and he slogged over to her. She looked like she was about to scream at him, but her angry stare gave way to a masochistic laugh.

"I can't believe I let you do that," she said. She looked back over to the train, now a bent, useless piece of shrapnel in the gurgling water.

"We better get outta here," Lloyd suggested.

"Yes. That's probably for the best." She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the water, toward the shore. The rear entrance of the hotel led out to the beach, so when they jogged up through the sand, they slipped into the maintenance stairway before anyone could see them. They were in their room and drying off well before transport security showed up.

Raine stood on the balcony, hair done up in a towel, and stared down at the train station, now lit up and crawling with people. "Look at all those night guards," she chuckled slightly. "Good thing we got out of there in time."

"Yeah." Lloyd strode up beside her and leaned over the railing. She reached out and grabbed his arm to keep him from tipping over. "You know, I think it's kinda fun to do bad stuff sometimes."

"And you're the one who always bleats on about not doing harm."

"Hey, no one was hurt. No harm _was_ done. Just a little 'gentle mischief,' as my mother would say."

"Is that what she would call it?" Raine took a moment to survey the damage. "I suppose I might agree with her. I've always thought a surface-train a stupid idea anyway. Now maybe they'll put an actual road between the main boulevard and every other part of town."

Lloyd threw himself on his bed, adrenaline wearing off. His eyelids drooped, he suddenly found himself limp. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just gentle mischief…" he muttered.

"What was that?" Raine asked.

"Hm…" he answered, before he passed out.


	36. Dressed to Impress

Forcystus stood over the reactor, watching it glow with power. He smiled, narrowing his eyes to keep his sight from blurring completely. It luminesced, pulsated, danced and growled with mana, seemingly nonsensically. But there was a definite method to its chaos—the trajectories of each burst of light had been predicted, calculated and assessed beforehand by his assistant engineer.

"Ha!" The pudgy, mustachioed chief engineer threw up his hands. Forcystus had to duck to avoid them. "Just like I predicted."

Forcystus had to keep himself from pushing the man into the reactor. Of course, he knew—everyone knew—that Lieutenant Sage had been the one to parse through the complexities of the machine's behavior. It bewildered Forcystus that the chief engineer thought they were all naïve enough to believe he'd done the work himself.

But he refused to relegate a woman of such versatile acuity to a role that was more managerial than scientific. He needed her, badly, seemingly in every place. He needed her in the field, he needed her at the helm of the reactor, he needed her at the control booth to the cannon, he needed her at every apparatus, guarding every door, at the end of every communication line. But he only had one of her to spare, so he had no choice but to assign her to the most appropriate task.

The instructions she had left the engineering team were concise, clear, and most relieving of all, useful. As the reactor roared and mana glowed below him, he heard two assistants at the controls, reveling in the moment all their hard work paid off.

"Is there nothing that woman can't do?" one man muttered.

"Yeah," said the other, sniggering. "Find a boyfriend."

Forcystus turned, eyeing both of them, and they froze. "I will not tolerate you disparaging a superior officer," he growled.

"S-Sorry, sir." The soldier lowered his head and fell into silence.

Forcystus made his way down the catwalk, giving looks here and there to discourage chatting. _Gods_, he thought. _This behavior is fit for Renegades._ He grimaced as he walked through the sliding door to the main control room of the Isealia Ranch.

"Sir." One guard greeted him with a salute. "All reports point to a complete success."

"Good." He glanced to the wide, pinkish window. Long ago, Angelus subject A012 had slept on the other side, for years. Since then, the room had been converted into a storage compartment for extra equipment relevant to the reactor. Now, if he chose to walk up to it and look through, he would see only piles of wires, centrifuges, outdated computers and one Desian uniform, lost a while back but never reclaimed.

He instead sat at his desk, bringing his monitor to life. He waited a few minutes, staring at the screen, until he was sure they had successfully shut down the reactor. "Well," he motioned to his assistant. "We've done it. Tell everyone to get into position and lock this whole place up."

The man nodded and disappeared. Forcystus stared at the screen, watching the tiny windows of video. He saw the mess hall, where the prisoners would normally soon be called for lunch. He saw the main entrance, where a few straggling guards ran to get to their places on time. He saw the yard, full of people, stopping work and questioning one another when the guards on duty suddenly disappeared back inside the building.

After a few minutes, the man returned to Forcystus' office and saluted. "Everything is in order, sir. We just need the word."

Forcystus nodded. "Shut it all down."

The entire ranch went eerily quiet. All along its length, doors slid shut and locked tightly, or else slid open and stayed that way. The officers, guards, medical staff and engineering unit were all locked tight behind metal doors, and the barriers that kept the prisoners partitioned slid away.

In the course of a second, the ranch seemed to completely reverse itself. Prisoners got up when they heard the doors to their cells swing open. The internees assisting with the cooking wandered out of the kitchen into the mess hall, wondering why the bell for midday meal had not rung. Some prisoners wandered to the edge of the yard, searching for any guards. Those in the infirmary slipped out of their beds, still bandaged, some still waiting to receive the exsphere implantation, and wandered out into the main hall.

All authority figures disappeared, and the prisoners seemed to have free reign of the ranch. They started trickling out of cells, out of the kitchens, the medical wing. Block C, where the children were kept, was abuzz with activity. One brave girl went up to the open door and simply walked out, and a few other timid children followed.

Forcystus leaned over and pressed a button by the monitor, leaning in to speak.

"Prisoners of the Iselia Human Ranch," he said. "You are prisoners no more."

People looked up to the screens, to the sky, to the speakers for the communication system. Some grinned, others burst into tears. Some merely looked bewildered and remained silent.

Forcystus continued. "We thank you for your contributions. You are dismissed." He didn't know what else to say. He didn't think it needed saying. He would not apologize—he did what he did for the good of these people, and for the good of his own people.

He turned off the PA system, but kept the security feed up. He watched some people immediately make for the door, pushing it open and stumbling out into the yard. They followed their comrades out the front gates, now open, and disappeared into the forest, fleeing as quickly as they could. Those were no doubt the people who had spent the least amount of time at the ranch. They still had their energy—some of them had not even been examined and implanted with exspheres yet.

Some other prisoners were a little more cautious. They made deliberate circles around the perimeter of the ranch, looking for any sign of trickery. When they saw that no snipers waited to shoot them down from the towers, they grabbed all they could. They looted the kitchen, stole the bedsheets, took whatever medicine they could from the medical wing, and stocked up before heading off into the forest, after their more eager compatriots. Forcystus knew those prisoners would have the greatest chance of survival, at least in the short run. They obviously had been at the ranch for a while, but while they knew how to deal with the shock of the situation, their exspheres were advanced enough to pose a risk to them. Perhaps they knew to look for a key crest somewhere out there.

Some of the adults made sure to swing by Block C to make sure the children had heard the news. Many of them found the entire block empty, but a few of them managed to drag off a scared, lingering child hiding under a bed or behind a shower curtain.

Other prisoners sought revenge. Forcystus had made doubly sure that no employees of the ranch would come into contact with the freed prisoners, so many of the angrier ones simply slammed into doors, grabbed crowbars and brooms and buckets and beat at the barriers that separated them from their former captors. Many swore at them, leaning up to the cameras and making obscene gestures. They seemed to know they were being watched, but even the most enraged of them could not break down the doors that kept the Desians safely locked up. They gave up after a few hours, wandering off into the woods after their fellow prisoners. Perhaps they would return one day to slake their indignation.

Some other prisoners wandered almost aimlessly. They sauntered through the facility, as if in some sort of suspended dream. They did not understand if this was a trick or not. They couldn't understand the sudden change in schedule, couldn't understand where everyone had gone all of a sudden. Their bodies and minds had been drained—these were the prisoners who had been at the ranch for months, years, perhaps even decades. They had no chance; they would not last long.

Eventually, over the course of a few hours, the ranch emptied completely. Forcystus slogged through all the video feeds, making sure that every nook, every cranny, had been vacated. Only when he was absolutely sure that only he and his staff remained, he shut the front gate and locked it tight. All the doors slid open, and the ranch once more fell under his control.

He started up the communication system again. "Ladies and gentlemen. As of this moment, we are officially traitors." A few faces of the employees darkened, but Forcystus had thought of that possibility. He had thought of everything. "But do not fear. We are only betrayers of the tyranny of Cruxis. We are not betrayers of our cause. Loyal soldiers, medics, scientists, specialists, pilots, radio operators… whatever your station, know that you have my thanks. You will have the thanks of your children, and their children." The faces on the screen upturned toward the speakers, a few smiles breaking out. "Though the first stage of this operation has concluded, the battle is far from over. Brothers, sisters, now is only the beginning. The road will be long and filled with perils. But at the end, we will find our home. We will find Derris-Kharlan. We will find our Golden Age."

Forcystus smiled when, after a brief, pregnant pause, a cheer rose up from every corner of the facility.

* * *

The sunlight seemed to pierce right through his eyelids into his aching brain. He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing his sweating skin, and groaned. He rolled over, stomach churning, and slowly sat up. His heart thumped in his head, and he had to close his eyes tight against the waves of harsh sunlight.

He swore, and shakily swung his legs over the side of his bed. The soft rug beneath his feet came as a surprise, and he glanced around the room, suddenly aware of where he was. He'd half expected to wake up in his room in Palmacosta, to the strong smell of his mother cooking, or in Asgard, to the gentle tap of Kratos prodding him awake. He stretched, his headache receding a bit, and walked across the room.

"Raine?" he said.

"Out here," she called from the balcony.

He staggered onto the patio, where Raine sat with a book and a bowl of fresh fruit. He could barely see her under her huge sunhat, face concealed by black glasses.

He sat down and started to eat, pouring himself a generous glass of water. Slowly, the events of the previous night came back to him. "How are we gonna get to Lezerano now?" he asked. "With the train gone and all."

"Oh, they replaced the cars early this morning. We just have to pass off as people other than the hooligans that derailed it last night. So I bought some new clothes. Yours are hanging up by the door."

"How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"Since about sunrise."

He clutched his head and yawned. "What time is it now?"

"Almost noon. We still have a little more than an hour before we need to meet the president, so get dressed, wash yourself and let's get going."

He was feeling much better by the time he followed Raine down the elevator and onto the street. When they reached the train, he lowered his head, hiding behind his sunglasses, hoping that no one around would recognize him, but they safely boarded, rode and debarked with no interference.

The Lezerano building was almost as impressive as the hotel. Taller than any building in Sylvarant, Lloyd could not help feeling like an ant in a colony when he pushed through the crowds of workers, businesspeople and shoppers, making his way to the depths of the building. The whole place bustled like a hive—even the elevator was crowded enough that he and Raine had to squish themselves between two malodorous men in suits. They rode up in silence, until it stopped at the president's office.

The secretary waved them in without a word, and they found themselves standing before a man, halfway reclining in his leather chair, one foot up on his desk, reading what appeared to be a novel. He looked up at them as they entered, closed the book and slid his leg off his desk.

"So," he said, standing. Lloyd seemed to shrink in front of the man, as tall and broad as he was. "You're Rodyle's underlings. I don't know why he sent the pair of you instead of just sending me a message."

"It's because we're here to threaten you, actually," Raine said. Lloyd saw her hand hover by her thigh, ready to draw her pistol should the need arise.

"Tell Rodyle I'm doing all I can. Tell him you can't exactly make the earth produce more ore than it already does. It takes time."

"If it takes too much, rest assured we will be forced to take over the operation ourselves."

"What, you and him?" the president glanced over at Lloyd and laughed.

"Rodyle will."

The man shrugged. "I ship every last ounce of ore I get. The lack of supply is Varley's domain. Go speak to him about it. I've already got investors in Meltokio demanding I explain why my profits are declining. I can't exactly tell them it's because a faction of half-elves are consuming all my resources."

"No doubt they'd laugh you out of the boardroom," Raine said. Lloyd could see a tiny smile on her face. "You will speak to this Varley, see what you can do. In the meantime, I will make sure your schedule is cleared so we can come check up on you." She turned to go. "Oh, and one more thing, before we leave you alone."

The president raised his eyebrows.

"Are you familiar with the Chosen?" she asked. For a moment Lloyd was unsure whether she meant Colette, or some other Chosen.

"I've had to endure the fool's company on more than one occasion," he replied.

Lloyd's confusion evaporated. Of course there was a Chosen on this side. There was a Tower, so there was a Chosen.

"Then you'll probably be able to tell us what he's been up to lately."

"Can't say I can. There've been a few threats to his life lately. Or so I've read. He's not in Meltokio anymore. Gods know where he's hiding—probably in the depths of some brothel or another."

"Well, find out where he is, or there's no guaranteeing what will happen to your assets," Raine gave him her most charming smile before turning her back on him. Lloyd stumbled after her, down the elevator, back out into the lobby.

"What was that about?" he asked. "Why do we want the other Chosen?"

"You must know that only the Chosen and senior officials of Cruxis have access to the higher portions of the Tower of Salvation."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And we don't want any senior officials of Cruxis breathing down our necks, do we?"

"So… you're gonna use him to get into the Tower and up to Derris-Kharlan."

"Correct. You get an A."

He elbowed her and she smiled, leading him through the crowd and back onto the train. The sun had started to set, lighting up the still sea, and Lloyd couldn't help admiring it as the train crawled across the surface of the water.

"Yuan wanted to kill the Chosen on the other side," he whispered, looking around to make sure no one eavesdropped. "Would he want to kill the one over here, too?"

"Yes. I suspect the threats to his life that Mr. Bryant spoke of were Renegade activity. You never know, however. He has a reputation, and many enemies. I wouldn't be surprised if the Church itself decided to get rid of him and replace him with another, milder Chosen."

"He's that bad, huh?" Lloyd asked, cupping his chin.

"There is also a possibility that he will refuse to cooperate with us. If that's the case, we'll have to improvise a solution."

"Why would he refuse?"

"He's in Cruxis' pocket, like the rest of them. Besides, why would a Tethe'allan noble like him cooperate with a cabal of lowly half-elves?"

Lloyd thought about the powerful man at the top of the drawer. "Why would the Lezerano president?"

Raine sighed. "I don't know. I assume Rodyle has some form of leverage over him. He doesn't seem to be enthusiastic about our partnership."

"So they're manipulating him."

Raine shrugged. "It's how business functions around here."

When the train screeched to a halt, she led him out onto solid ground. He followed her back down the street, toward the hotel. "We should go to the beach," Lloyd said.

"No. The last time I let you convince me to do anything, I ended up facedown in the water. I'm not going to do that again."

"Yeah, but that was fun. Admit it."

Raine stepped into the lobby and ignored his feeble goading. "I'm going to the room and I'm going to have a glass of champagne. You're welcome to join."

Lloyd sighed and followed her up to their room, where they sat on the deck and watched the city light up below them. They emptied one of the complementary bottles of champagne they found in the room, then another. Darkness fell, the dancing lights of the theme park lit up and died down, and Lloyd's stomach started to grumble. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and breathing in the salty air. "I wonder what they have to eat downstairs," he said.

"I don't know. We could—gods damn it." Raine stood up when the communicator screeched on the wall. She walked back into the room and stood at its side, holding the receiver to her ear.

"Yes. This is—oh. Well, that was unexpectedly fast. Yes. I can make it. See you then." She hung up and her face contorted into a semi-amused scowl. "Well. Quite punctually, it seems President Bryant is taking us out to dinner."

"Is he? What for?"

"He wants to meet with us to discuss things in a more casual setting, he said."

"Weird guy."

"Indeed he is. Well, get dressed. Put something nice on."

"I don't have anything nice."

"Yes you do. Look in your bag."

He searched the half-strewn contents of his pack and pulled out what he could only assume was some sort of dress shirt. "This? This is hideous."

"Just put it on."

He grumbled and changed, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to Raine, who slipped into something that seemed to be some sort of elven ceremonial robe. He figured she did it to keep up her disguise, and said nothing about it. When they left their room, they looked like a mismatched pair of exotic birds.

"Gods, we look terrible," Lloyd said.

"Yes, I suppose we do. But that's not important." She looked over at him. "When we meet with this man, I want you to keep quiet. I want you to listen carefully, though. He might have a few interesting things to say."

Their destination was a small but ludicrously expensive restaurant, in front of which a man in a tuxedo stood, seemingly tasked with doing nothing but greeting guests and making sure they did not pop up uninvited. He bowed to them as they passed.

It was strange to Lloyd, to have someone treat him with such deference. It may have been manufactured, but he was still unused to people bowing to him, unused to big rooms with big beds and down pillows, unused to champagne in the afternoon and fancy meals. He scratched his forehead uncomfortably.

"Glad you could make it." The president stood beside a table, lifting his arms to greet them. He shook each of their hands and motioned for them to sit across from him. He seemed like an entirely different man than the one Lloyd had met earlier that day, sitting morosely behind his desk in the dark, dusty office. When they sat down, the president leaned in, smile disappearing. Lloyd saw a hint of that other man in him, in his frown.

"Now, we're going to talk quietly, so no one can hear us. I swear to all the gods my subordinates hang outside my office just to gather dirt on me. As far as I know we can talk here."

"Glad to know," Raine said, but Lloyd noticed her eyes dart around the restaurant, as if instinctively watching out for eavesdroppers.

"Well, regarding your first request, I have spoken with Varley. He will increase mining operations—no qualms about it, slave driver that he is. You will have your ore."

"Good to hear."

"As per your second request, I pulled a few strings here and there, made a few calls. Turns out the Chosen is in Mizuho, with his bodyguard. Seems like the capital was not to his liking anymore."

"Mizuho? That makes my job a bit difficult."

The president opened his mouth to speak, but held it in as the waiter arrived with drinks. He waited until the man was well out of earshot before continuing. "Not to worry. I have more than one friend in shinobi circles. I will take you there myself."

Raine raised an eyebrow. "Will you? I appreciate the cooperation, but I suspect that's a bad idea."

"It won't be suspicious in the least. After all, I have a reputation for disappearing for days at a time." He gave them a smile that sent a shiver down Lloyd's spine. He wondered what this man did in his spare time, and decided that if it wasn't explicitly violent, it was likely perverted in some way.

"I have heard that, yes," Raine said, lifting her glass to her lips.

The president lay his elbows on the table and looked at her. Lloyd bit his lip, trying to stop himself from grabbing the man's head and turning it some other direction. But the president broke his intense stare when the main course arrived.

"You know the way to Mizuho?" Raine asked, after the waiter had left.

"Yes. It doesn't take a week. You'll have to walk a few miles from the sea, but it's much faster than going back to Sybak and then through Gaoracchia."

"Why're you gonna help us?" Lloyd asked. He couldn't help it. He didn't like the way this man looked, the way he smiled, his mannerisms. Everything was too refined, too planned, like each flick of his eyebrow or twist of his wrist was simply an ersatz impression of human movement.

Raine shot him a damning look, but the president just took a sip of champagne, unfazed. "Anything to get out of that office. They're watching me—Rodyle's goons, my own goons, everyone. My whole board, all my investors, hell, even all of my employees are soulless sycophants, shameless vultures, spies, backstabbers."

"Sounds par for the course," Raine said.

"It is, unfortunately. So here I am. Wishing I'd gotten out of it all sooner. But now it's too late."

"Now it's too late," Raine agreed. She tapped her champagne glass against his. "For all of us, isn't it?"

"Indeed." He raised his glass and drank, and Lloyd figured he might as well join in, even if he hadn't explicitly been invited to this macabre toast.

Too late. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he was in too deep, just like the president. Just like Raine. He looked into his glass, at the bubbling golden liquid, and sighed. He hoped it wasn't too late to go back home, to take his mother back to the desert and patch up their old life. He desperately hoped she was still alive, that she was still waiting for him, that she would survive the ranch just for a little longer. Then he would find her, he would take her home, and they could start again.

Deep in his gut, where his worst fears lay, he discovered the possibility that Raine was right. Maybe it was too late. Maybe his mother was already dead. Maybe things had changed too much for them to go back. Maybe they would never see each other again.

His heart twisted as he thought of the eventualities that separated his mother from him, but he decided he would discard them. He would find her, he would save her, he would bring her home. All this, all these boat rides and long walks and fights and meetings and dinners and drinks… these were all for her.

Raine and the president might drink to inevitability, but when Lloyd raised the glass to his lips, he drank to his mother.


	37. Flying Fish

"I'll be damned," Anna whispered. The pertinence of her statement was not lost on her.

In the center of the yard, still twitching, arm-like appendages splayed across the thin grass, lay a creature she had never had the displeasure of seeing before. Greenish blood dripped from its lacerations, and the caverns of flesh where they had broken its bones. Wherever its blood fell from its body, the grass underneath curled and browned nearly instantaneously. The ground itself seemed to wither under its massive, semi-amphibian corpse.

Anna was reminded of a dead octopus she had once found in the tide pools around Palmacosta when she was a girl. Before the urchins and other creatures had come to eat away its flesh, it had decayed in the shallow water, limbs shining in the cloudy day. This monster had died under different circumstances, but looked similar in composition to that slimy sea creature. She could almost taste the bile rise to her mouth, and swallowed it down.

"What happened down there?" she whispered, almost dreading the answer.

"Exsphere removal went awry," Kratos answered. He had not left her side for days. Perhaps he was waiting around, just for her to witness this creature, so he could justify his violence toward her and her son so many years ago. She glanced over at him. He did not look smug or vindicated. He just stared at the monster in the yard, eyes glazed.

Anna watched the Desian foot soldiers dispose of the giant corpse. At first they had tried to drag it out the front gates, but it was too heavy. She saw them discussing matters with one another for a while, before they came to the decision to dismember the creature and dispose of it bit by bit. A few of them donned suits that would protect them against its caustic, green ichor.

"Why does the blood do that?" she asked Kratos.

"Exsphere particulate. Its blood is saturated with it. The stone is still trying to suck the mana from anything it can. Whatever it touches decays."

Anna clutched her remaining hand to her chest, exsphere pulsating. "Was my blood like that?"

She spied Kratos go still out of the corner of her eye. "No. The exsphere hadn't spread through you completely. That's why I thought it might not be too late to save you."

"Although you couldn't have known that until you saw me bleed."

"No."

One of the Desian guards brought out a massive saw and bent over the corpse's splayed limb. With a roar the saw came to life, and he lowered it against the monster's arm.

Anna instinctively scratched her own stump, skin tingling as she watched the blade cut through the monster's green flesh. "I suppose I should thank you for trying to save me, at least."

"I don't think you should. What I did was unforgivable."

Anna's eyes wandered to his stoic face, then back to the dead monster. She watched its arm come off with a fleshy thump, and bit her lip. Two men carried it off, through the front entrance, gate sliding open for them.

She had not been around when the thing burst from the deeper parts of the ranch, huge arms swinging, raking down workers and guards alike. She'd heard the sirens, and stumbled through the halls and out to the balcony, her husband in tow, but by that time they had already pumped enough bullets into the creature to subdue it. The guards had cleared the yard, herding the living and dragging the dead back to the inner facility. She was not sure if they had killed the monster completely—even now, as the man with the saw moved onto one of its legs, it twitched in a way that suggested it might still be alive.

Someone came out with a flamethrower and burnt away the bloodstains on the ground. A terrible smell wafted up to Anna, and she covered her nose with her sleeve, but she found she couldn't leave. She wondered if she had smelled that bad when it happened to her.

"I never believed them," she muttered. "Other prisoners kept telling me the same story, about people turning into… that. But I thought it was just a rumor. I thought the Desians made it up and fed it to us to keep us in line."

"I can't blame you for thinking that. It seems ludicrous, if you've never seen it before."

"It _is_ ludicrous. That a human being can become…" She looked down at her exsphere. "What the hell are these things, Kratos? What sort of power can turn a person into that?"

He drew in a sharp breath, and she knew she would not get a satisfactory explanation.

"Don't answer that," she said. She looked back over the monster, now without half of its limbs, blood dripping into the brown grass. She imagined herself, violent and hideous, hurting her son. She remembered she had reached out to Lloyd, but with human hands or spindly claws, she could not recall. A sickening feeling welled up in her stomach and spread to her every limb. She covered her mouth, for fear of crying out or throwing up.

"What's wrong?" Kratos asked.

"I deserve this, don't I?" she said.

"No."

"Yes, I do. I tried to kill him, gods above. I remember…"

"You couldn't help it."

She shivered, nauseated. "I was too weak to fight it."

He reached over and took her shoulder. "And I was too weak to fight you."

"So I guess we're both getting what we deserve."

"Anna, you don't deserve this. Nobody does. But Lloyd deserves to be able to live out his life, free from fear. He deserves a chance, don't you agree?"

"Of course he does." Anna sighed. "If I have to do this for him… then fine. I'll do it. But it doesn't mean I'll be happy about it."

"Neither of us are happy about it."

"You're never happy."

Kratos lowered his head. "I know."

She forced a weak smile. "Come inside. It's starting to rain."

She led him away, while the first drops of a coming storm fell down on the yard, splashing off the monster's shining skin. The rain soaked the Desians tasked with dismembering and jettisoning the corpse. It fell in sheets, running through the dirt and grass, washing the blood away.

* * *

The President's private yacht set sail from the Altamiran harbor early in the morning. Before the streets filled with people, before the shops opened up and the train began to run for the day, Lloyd and Raine stepped onto the shining deck, looking like a shabby pair of rats beside the President and his small but impeccably dressed staff.

They were well out to sea by the time the sun rose, and Lloyd wasn't sure what to do with his time but explore the craft. He ducked down into the core of the boat and reemerged stunned, open-mouthed.

"This thing is huge," he told them, as if the President didn't already know. "You could fit like… five houses in here!"

"Five?" the President seemed unimpressed.

"Very small houses where he's from," Raine sighed.

"Ah, I see. I hadn't thought this thing quite that big myself."

Lloyd scowled. "But I don't get why you'd need a pool when you have the ocean right there. If you wanna go swimming, just jump right off the side."

The President laughed, and Raine just gave Lloyd a sad look. "Mr. Bryant, if I may—" she started.

"Call me Regal."

"Regal, if I may—"

"Would you like a cocktail?" he asked before she could finish. Raine blinked in surprise, falling silent briefly.

"Well… um, I suppose."

"Good. Come. I'll show you the bar."

Raine shot Lloyd a confusing glance before following Regal into the salon. Lloyd watched them, clenching and unclenching his fists, standing alone on deck. He decided he might as well follow them, and stepped down the stairs. He sat on a couch across from them as they leaned over the bar, deep in a conversation Lloyd didn't care to overhear. He crossed his arms and lay his head down, exhausted from his early rise. From the corner of his rapidly dimming gaze, he spied Raine laughing at something Regal had said, and his stomach turned over once before he fell asleep.

It seemed like he had merely blinked, but then Raine shook him awake. He groaned and opened his eyes.

"Lloyd, good news."

"What?"

"Regal has agreed to help me test your exsphere."

Lloyd grabbed a pillow and held it over his face. "No."

"Get up."

"Not that again. I thought we were done with that."

"We were done momentarily, when you didn't have a sparring partner. But now we have a man who's more than capable—and more than willing—to give you a good workout."

Lloyd moaned and sat up, Raine smiling beside him. "Fine."

"Great. I'll meet you on deck. Just bring those toys you bought in Sybak."

Lloyd figured she meant his knives. He rubbed his eyes, swung his legs off the couch and stood, stretching. He looked out the thin windows of the boat, and saw the sun high in the sky. His stomach rumbled. It must've been around lunchtime, and he'd had no breakfast.

When he got to the sternward deck, Raine and Regal waited for him. Raine leaned across the railing, drink in one hand, notebook in the other. Lloyd walked up to her, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm so hungry," he said. "Can I eat first?"

"You can eat as a reward for putting up with this," she answered. "Now, get out your knives and let's see if anything's changed."

Lloyd sighed, turning to face Regal as the man merely rolled up his sleeves and clenched his fists. "You're just gonna do this with your bare hands?" Lloyd asked him.

He nodded with such surety Lloyd felt his stomach drop. He always seemed to be picking fights with men bigger than he was—and Regal was larger than his father, larger than Barra, even.

"Try not to kill him, Mr. Bryant. I need him alive."

Lloyd raised his knives, launched himself at Regal and promptly had his ass handed to him. The man moved with such fluidity and effortlessness Lloyd could barely keep up with him. He grew more desperate by the second, but the fight did not last long. A swift palm strike to the back of his neck flung him down on the deck, sputtering.

"How the hell…" Lloyd grunted, got up and did it all again. Raine sat by, scribbling in her notebook, occasionally taking a few sips from her glass. When Lloyd found himself on the ground for the dozenth time, Regal bent to help him up. He reluctantly took the man's hand and he pulled him to his feet.

"That's enough," Raine said. "This is getting repetitive."

"Did you learn something?" Regal asked, with a smile Lloyd could not help but label as condescending.

"Oh, yes. Much." Raine closed her notebook and set it down. "We can resume tomorrow."

"Can I eat now?" Lloyd asked.

Raine glanced at Regal and he nodded. "We can all do with a snack," he said. "And you, madame, your glass seems to be empty. That will not do."

Raine laughed, and Lloyd's stomach turned. "No, I suppose it won't."

"Let's kick out the bartender and I'll make you one of my favorites. One for him, too, if he wants one." Regal barely glanced at Lloyd before taking Raine's arm and leading her off the deck. Lloyd followed reluctantly, disliking the way the man smiled, the way he lathered on the charm.

Raine had told him they were safe on this rig, that Regal would never try to do anything to them, not with the kind of leverage Rodyle had over him. She was in constant contact with Forcystus, communicator sending out a signal every hour or so. She had a gun, Regal didn't. But Lloyd could still not shake the knowledge that they had boarded the private yacht of a murderer, isolated themselves and put themselves at his mercy. Raine had been confident that nothing would happen. Lloyd wasn't so sure, especially now that he saw Regal had taken some sort of liking to her.

So sometime after dinner, when Raine had locked herself in the bathroom, Lloyd followed Regal out onto the back deck. The man stood facing the water, unaware, and Lloyd briefly considered pushing him off the side into the ocean. But he knew Raine would kill him for that. He would just have to do what he could.

"You need to stay away from Raine," he told Regal.

The man turned and gave Lloyd a sad smile. "You think I'm going to hurt her?"

"I know what you did. What you are. And I'm telling you, if you try anything—"

"You'll beat me down the same way you did in training today?" Regal laughed, Lloyd turned red. "Don't worry, boy. I'm only trying to make our trip pleasant. If I have to endure the company of Desians, I'm going to try to minimize the pain. The minibar does that."

Lloyd leaned over the railing beside Regal and looked down into the water. Regal pointed to the distance, where a few white streaks darted above the water, lit brightly in the full moon.

"There's a school of flying fish. Can you see them?"

"Yeah."

"They do that to escape predators. Just jump out of the water and soar across it."

Lloyd sighed. "I wish I could do that sometimes."

"I wish I could do that practically every moment of every day. But, you know, so it goes."

Lloyd gripped the railing, twisting it in his hands. The school of fish descended back into the water and disappeared entirely.

"I've been wondering something," Regal said, and Lloyd turned to him. "When I get threatening visits from Desians, they never include a human boy among them. I've been wondering what would drive a kid like you to keep the company of people like them."

Lloyd didn't answer. He just looked out over the water, desperately wishing for the school of flying fish to reappear so he would have something other than Regal's probing question to occupy his brain.

"You don't seem like a Desian," the man said.

"And you don't _seem_ like a murderer," Lloyd answered. "But that doesn't change the fact that you are."

Regal sighed, returning his gaze to the water. He stood silent for a good full minute before he took a deep breath. "Do you want to know why I'm not serving time?"

"It's because you have money," Lloyd answered.

"That's certainly a part of it, yes. I'm still a free man mostly because in a last-minute show of contrition, the man responsible for the whole thing finally told the truth. By that time, the court drama was already over. I was all over the papers. My company was desperately trying to save face. They did so many press conferences, so many articles… but since I was already famous for murdering my fiancée, there was little anyone could do to stem the rumors and separate out the truth."

"Well, then. What is the truth?" Lloyd asked, preparing himself to be supremely unimpressed.

"I had to do it. She'd become a monster."

Lloyd's heart skipped a beat, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes, trying to ground himself.

"Looking back, we both should've known better. That it would never work out. She was of lowly birth, and I was born with that proverbial silver spoon in my mouth. Others disapproved of our union. Behind my back, my right hand man decided to get rid of her. Sold her to Rodyle. The next time I saw her, the exsphere he'd put on her had already…"

"Martel," Lloyd muttered. The possibility that the same fate had befallen his mother suddenly became more real to him. He had tried to assume his father was lying, desperately trying to justify his actions, but maybe deep inside him, he'd known it had been true. He clutched his head. "I've heard this story before," he said.

"Then you know that there was only one way it could've turned out."

"You didn't… you didn't try to just cut off the exsphere?" Lloyd asked. "My… I heard that it sometimes works, in those cases."

"I would've, but she had worn it on her collar. I would've had to cut off her head."

"Shit, Regal. I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as me. I was prepared to pay for what I'd done. She had attacked me as a monster, but she died a human being. Her body, all the evidence, suggested I'd merely murdered her in cold blood. Only George had an idea of what really went on."

"He's the one that gave her to Rodyle?"

"Yes."

"Humans…" Lloyd couldn't help but echo Raine's sentiment. "We sell each other out a lot, don't we?"

"Yes, we do. But in this case, he repented. He got me a lawyer. He told the whole story. By that time it was too late to save my reputation, but I didn't care. I was a mess. Everything was a blur."

That had been Kratos' excuse, too. Lloyd was not a fan of the uncanny similarities in this story. "What happened to George?"

"He's still working for me. He technically didn't do anything illegal."

"Selling another human being isn't illegal?"

"She consented. He convinced her it was for the best if she changed her employment. As far as legality is concerned, there's nothing wrong with that. It's where morality is concerned that opinion differs."

"Damn. This world is just as screwed up as the other one."

"You're from Sylvarant?" Regal asked.

Lloyd nodded.

"Then it's even more surprising that you would join Desians. The ranches are where the exsphere refinement process takes place. I suppose you didn't know that."

"Oh, I do. I grew up in a ranch."

"I'm sorry."

Lloyd did not launch on a tirade accusing Regal of helping facilitate the existence of the ranches. Without an exsphere company, there would be no exsphere market, there would be no need for the "refinement process," as he put it. He knew he could've—probably should've. But he didn't. Both he and Regal were now complicit in Desian operations, even if the end goal was to dismantle Cruxis, so Lloyd could not accuse Regal of anything he was not guilty of himself. He wore an exsphere. He worked for Desians. He was as bad as any of them.

When Regal spoke, Lloyd almost flinched. "They have someone you love, don't they?"

"What?"

"The Desians. They've taken someone close to you as a hostage, as collateral."

"Sort of."

"Who is it?"

Lloyd stayed silent for a minute, thinking. "My mother," he finally said.

Regal nodded. "I would've guessed as much." He turned back to the water, and Lloyd mulled over the President's strange question in his head for a while.

"Who do they have of yours?" he asked. Regal turned to him, flashing a confused frown. "I'm guessing they did the same thing to you. So who did they take hostage?"

Regal swallowed. "My sister-in-law."

"The sister of your fiancée?"

"Yes. Both of them were employed by Rodyle at some point. The older one… survived the exsphere implant. She's still around, but she's under his control. She's… alive, but not really. Functioning, but not living." Regal sighed. "They said they'd let her go if I did what they asked. I've been doing what they've asked for years now."

Lloyd heard Raine emerge from the salon, and bit his lip.

"One last word of advice," Regal whispered, as she approached. "Don't trust any of them. They won't give you back your mother. So keep your guard up. Especially around her." Regal nodded to Raine as she approached.

Regal's grin lit up his face, and Raine smiled back. "What are you discussing out here the dark?" she asked.

"Just giving the kid a few tips on how to count cards at the casino."

Raine chuckled. "Good luck. He can barely count at all." Lloyd was about to take offense, but she reached out and handed him a drink. "I made this for you. And for you, Regal, there's one waiting on the table."

"Sounds delightful. Perhaps we should strike up a card game. I know a few good ones for three players. Lloyd, you in?" Regal looked at him with an honesty Lloyd had previously chalked up to smugness.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Good. Now, the rules aren't complicated, but you have to follow along closely…"

* * *

The sea was calm, the air was fresh and clear. Lloyd hadn't been sick since he boarded, so there should've been no reason why he woke up in the middle of the night, stomach churning. He sat up, briefly forgetting where he was, unconsciously checking to make sure he was not back at the ranch. No, his bed was too big, too soft. The smell of salt permeated the place, and thick moonlight poured through the small window across from him.

He relaxed, remembering the events of the past few months. He looked around, wondering if he'd woken up Raine with his squirming. When he glanced toward her bunk, he found it empty. Worry pulsed through him—he was reminded of those few times at the ranch when he awoke in the night, to witness the older kids visit one another in bed. He swore to himself. She had better not be rushing off to have some midnight fun with that goddamn Regal. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, catching his balance when the whole floor eased sideways a little. He walked to the door and stepped out into the belly of the yacht, figuring he might as well follow Raine's trail.

To his great relief, he found her at the bar, pouring herself a glass of water. He sat down beside her, and she seemed unsurprised to see him there.

"Water?" she offered. "I'd say I need it desperately, after the sheer amount of tippling I've done today."

"Sure."

She slid a glass over to him. He stared awkwardly at it, wondering if he should tell her exactly why he got up to follow her in the first place. He decided against it. "Hey, Raine."

"What?"

"You drink too much."

She sighed. "Not so much that I can't function."

"Does Forcystus know you always drink on the job?"

"Probably. It isn't that hard to guess. But I'm confident he understands."

"Understands what?"

"Why I would need to. Why any of us would need to. Being a Desian isn't great, Lloyd. None of us like what we do. Only the kind of sadists who work for Kvar like their jobs. I'm only doing this because I know that eventually, when the smoke clears, the world will be better off for it."

"You don't think Desians are really that bad?"

"Plenty of us are bitter. We've been hurt, terribly, usually by humans. Even Forcystus—especially Forcystus—fits that bill."

"What happened to him to make him want to run a ranch?"

"He didn't _want_ to, but I wouldn't blame him if he did." Raine paused, finishing her glass before pouring herself another. "When I first came to the ranch, right after my brother died, Forcystus sat me down and explained to me exactly how well he understood my situation. It turns out that many of us have had similar experiences. We're not naturally evil, Lloyd. Only the ones who are bitter and damaged enough to desensitize themselves to cruelty can work at a human ranch. We've all suffered in one way or another, and I think that we don't know what else to do but nurse that anger, pass it on.

"Forcystus offered me revenge. He said that he understood what I was feeling. When he was young, a band of humans burned his entire town to the ground. They cut off the heads of all his siblings. They were going to kill him too—they tore out his eye, sliced him open and threw him in the river. He said it was through sheer hatred he survived. He said he knew the kind of hatred I must've been feeling. And he told me that he would help me track down the man who killed my brother."

She stared into her drink for a moment. Lloyd didn't dare interrupt. "At first I didn't believe it was possible to hunt down one crazy man in a world full of people just like him, but he did. He found him for me, and brought him back to the ranch. I got to watch the whole process. I learned how exspheres were made, then." She paused and looked at her own exsphere for a moment. "He died at my feet, a broken, insane man. I got to watch him waste away and decay in misery. I got my revenge, and I did not feel any better for it. I didn't care. It wouldn't bring back my brother. But I still wear the exsphere we took from that man, just to remind me to never let anything like that happen again."

Lloyd's eyes wandered to the stone that glinted on the inside of her wrist, but he didn't say anything.

"So, just remember that, should you ever turn on us. We didn't ask for this. Desians are merely an unsuccessful treatment for a fatal disease. Forcystus is a man who is trying to do what he can to cut out the cancer of prejudice in our society. He cannot implement a cure without bloodying his hands."

Lloyd sighed. "He… sure is a strange man."

"He's a person full of conflict and contradictions. He may have ruined your life, to an extent, but he saved mine. He gave me my life back. He couldn't bring back my brother, but he gave me the power to make my own choices again. He gave me comfort, he gave me purpose. He gave me revenge, when I thought I wanted it. And he gave me support when I told him I didn't. He helped me find my estranged mother again. He let me complete my education, he gave me work. He has done more good for half-elves than he's done ill to humans."

Lloyd clenched his fist. "You can't say that. You don't know what any of us went through at the ranch. You can't just say that he's put more ticks on his good-to-half-elves checklist than his bad-to-humans checklist and call it okay."

"You're… right. Quantitatively comparing good and bad is a reductive and sophomoric way to examine morality. Forgive me."

He looked at her pleading blue eyes, her white hand clenching the small water cup, and couldn't help but smile. "You're so weird, Raine."

She smiled back. "I know. I will see you in the morning. Get some sleep."


	38. Fire from the Sky

Regal left them at the crest of the hill that led down to the hidden village of Mizuho. He had insisted that he'd rather not have to endure the company of the Chosen, but preferred to return to his yacht. Lloyd figured he would only do as much for them as would satisfy Raine, and by extension, Rodyle and Forcystus. So they had to make the dangerous trek down the valley alone, with a cluster of shady trees as the only indicator of their distant waypoint.

Lloyd groaned on the way down. "Man, my feet hurt. Are we there yet?"

"Gods above, Lloyd, you've been traveling for months. I would've thought you'd be used to this by now."

He knew she was right. He had been out of the desert for a long time now, but the ground was so hard in other places of the world—his shoes were stiff, left blisters. Traveling in the rest of the world was so different from traveling through the soft sands of Triet, where he could choose to take off his sandals and continue on bare feet just as comfortably, if the heat allowed it. He wondered exactly how long it had been since he'd touched the Triet sands.

"Hey, Raine. What's the date back in Sylvarant?" Tethe'alla used a different calendar, one that he had trouble keeping track of. She told him, and he smiled a little. "My birthday's coming up."

Raine glanced over her shoulder at him, frowning. "No it's not. You turned eighteen months ago."

"How do you know?"

"I read your file. You're birthday's—"

"Wait, no, don't tell me."

"Why not? You don't want to know?"

"No. Just… just surprise me with a present the next time around, okay?"

Raine smiled. "Okay then. If it so happens we're still in contact next year, I'll be sure to do that. But it surprises me you don't know your own birth date."

Lloyd shrugged. "My mother let me pick one when we got out of the ranch. She let me pick hers, too."

"That's one way to symbolize a new start, I suppose," Raine admitted. "From the reports I've read, and the way you talk about her, she seems like a very odd woman."

"I don't know about odd. She just doesn't really care what other people think of her. Sorta like you, I guess."

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment."

"You should."

A tall, flat gray shadow rose up from under the distant trees, and Lloyd stopped to squint at it. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a massive stone wall, topped with lookout towers and human-shaped dots scouting from edge to edge. When they arrived at the wall, they found the entrance to the city enclosed in a thick wooden gate, guarded.

"Tight security," Lloyd muttered.

"Mizuho is culturally and geographically isolated. They don't like outsiders."

"Why not?"

"They have a lot of secrets to keep," Raine said, before approaching the guards. They shouted at her in a language Lloyd could not understand, but she answered in one he could. "We've been sent here as representatives of Lezerano Company. I have no doubt your scouts have spotted us traveling with the President himself, so you know we are sincere."

The two guards whispered to one another. "What is your business here?" one asked.

"I have orders to speak about that to the Chosen only. I understand he is somewhere within your borders."

The guards started to bicker quietly in that incomprehensible tongue, before one of them stepped forward. "He tells me one of our scouts spied you landing on our shores in the President's boat. While I do not know why he seems to find it appropriate to employ an elf and a child—" his eyes wandered to Lloyd—"I will allow you inside. However, you are not to speak with the Chosen without his bodyguard present."

"I understand. We will not take up much of his precious time."

The guard couldn't help but break into a slight smile at that. "Precious time, indeed. Come inside."

The gates swung open with a mighty creak, and they entered the town. Lloyd looked around, blown away by the sheer strangeness of the place. "Why are they dressed so weird?" he whispered to Raine.

"No doubt they are asking the same question about us. Just keep quiet, and for Martel's sake, if you have to speak, be polite."

He shut his mouth and followed her past the rows of squat houses, lined with paper and trimmed in a strange yellow wood. He kept his head down, watching the dirt, admiring the curve of the bridge as he crossed the small river at the center of the village. Some of the townspeople came out to watch the strange travelers walk by, the children silent and curious.

"He's in here," their guide said gruffly, leading them to a small house by the river. He knocked thrice, and without waiting for a reply, opened the door and nearly shoved them inside. He slid the door shut behind them, and they found themselves in a spacious but sparsely decorated room. At a small, low table in the center sat a red-haired man, shuffling a deck of cards. He looked up at them, unconcerned.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You're the Chosen?" Raine inquired.

"The one and only."

"We need your help," she said.

"Yeah, you and the rest of the world." The man yawned and stood, stretching. Lloyd immediately disliked the look of him. He cracked his knuckles and sized both of them up before sighing and shouting into the room behind him. "Sheena! We have a couple of unexpected guests. Doesn't look like they're here to kill me, but you never know." He smiled lazily. "Some bodyguard she is."

In a quick flash of purple cloth, the Chosen's bodyguard appeared from the next room, stance ready, eyes flashing.

"What do you want?" she asked, hands wandering to where Lloyd could only assume she kept her weapons.

Lloyd couldn't really remember what Raine said next. She had mentioned something about duty, something about the welfare of the world, but Lloyd did not hear her. He was riveted to Sheena's dark, unforgiving eyes, the familiarity of her stare.

His heart seemed to squeeze itself dry when he realized where he'd seen those eyes before. He stepped forward, without thinking, and drew his knives.

"You," he hissed, interrupting Raine. "You killed her. You're the one that killed the Chosen."

Sheena narrowed her eyes at him. "And you're the kid who I let live. Gods, never would have guessed my own mercy would come to bite me in the ass." She pulled out what Lloyd suspected were a pair of cards. "I suppose you're here for payback."

Lloyd didn't answer—he just thrust forward, knives flashing, before Raine could stop him. He swept at the bodyguard, slicing through clean air. She slipped through openings in his movement like water, and he barely managed to catch the tail of her obi as it flew past him. He lifted his arms and turned his head, ready for her counter, but where he expected a blade, he saw only the edge of a white card, pressed harmlessly against his sternum.

He looked up at her and almost laughed. He was glad he didn't when she pulled the card away from his chest with a burst of flame. He flew back into the wall, a searing pain rushing through his abdomen. He hit wood and plaster with a crunch and fell to the ground, scrambling up only to find her standing over him.

A shadow, darker than anything he'd ever seen before, hovered around her like an aura. It ate all the light around her, fueling its abyssal energy, flowing down her arm to her clenched hand. She lifted her hand to the ceiling, calling forth whatever fell being occupied the air around her. Lloyd was about to scramble out of the shadow's trajectory when he heard someone shout the assassin's name.

"Sheena! Not here. Not now."

Lloyd pulled himself to his feet, expecting the Chosen to have intervened, but when he saw Yuan standing in the far doorway, he raised his knives again. He wasn't sure who to take out first, or how he would start. He backed up to Raine, who had drawn her pistol at this point and aimed it steady at the bodyguard's head.

The woman retreated, sliding back to Yuan and the Chosen. "I didn't want to waste a summon on this runt anyway."

Lloyd growled, but Raine's free hand grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Seraphim Ka-Fai?" she asked.

Yuan laughed. "You know as well as I that I've been stripped of that title. Besides, I don't think that's any of your business." The way the Chosen and his henchwoman stood in his shadow made Lloyd wonder if Yuan had had them in his pocket. But if he was going around killing Chosens, then this man and his assassin friend must not be fully aware of Yuan's intentions.

"You're working with Desians now, Lloyd?" Yuan asked, before he could speak. "That's a turn of events I could not anticipate." He seemed almost amused by the fact.

"And you're in cahoots with the Chosen?" Lloyd replied. "Even though you murdered the other one?"

"You shouldn't meddle in affairs you don't understand," Yuan said.

"I'm tired of this conversation," Raine interrupted, focusing her crosshairs on Yuan's forehead. "Give us the Chosen."

"No," Yuan answered.

The man in question seemed disturbingly nonchalant about the whole ordeal. "Hey Yuan, you might wanna listen to the cool beauty. She's gonna paint the wall with your brains in about half a second."

"She won't."

Raine tightened her grip on her firearm. "Try me."

Lloyd had no doubt she was about to pull the trigger when a gargantuan boom shook the entire house. Dust and particles of debris fell from the ceiling, the ground seemed to rock beneath their feet like the hull of a boat, and all of them found themselves completely still, looking at one another in confusion.

"What the hell was—" Lloyd started, but another huge noise drowned him out. He fell to the floor, the force of what he assumed was an explosion rumbled through the building. Yuan scrambled to the door, slid it open and looked out into the village. He swore, glanced at all of them, and disappeared through the doorway.

"Hey! Where are you going?" the bodyguard screamed, stumbling after him. She got to the doorway and looked out, apparently finding no sign of him. "What the hell is going on?"

Raine pushed past her, out into the village, just as another boom rumbled through the town. Part of a house next to theirs collapsed in a pile of rubble, but most others withstood the shaking. Still, it did not stop them and all the other villagers from rushing out of their houses and looking for the source of the noise.

High above them, blocking the sun like an impossible metal whale, hovered a titanic ship-like shape. It glinted with black metal, guns blazing. A few rockets hit the outskirts of the village, sending up flames where they landed.

"Shit!" Raine yelled, grabbing the Chosen's wrist and dragging him down the street. "If you want to live, follow me!"

"Where do you think you're taking me?" he shouted, complying only at the end of her loaded gun.

"Let go of him!" Sheena yelled. She stumbled after them, dividing her attention between her ward and the giant machine in the sky. Lloyd, too, had a difficult time dragging his gaze away from the massive thing. Barrels of metal rose from its sides, shining in the harsh sun. Fire flew from the dark cylinders, raining down on the village, sheets of flame engulfing entire buildings.

Lloyd ran after Raine, shouting, stumbling, toward the village's outer wall, portions of which now lay in rubble. He scrambled over the rocks after them, stopping only to look back at the assassin, who turned toward the flames.

"What are you doing, Sheena!" the Chosen screamed over the whistling and booming of explosives dropping from the sky.

"I can't leave them!" she yelled back. She started to scramble back down the rubble, toward the burning village, and the Chosen struggled out of Raine's grip. He tried his best to tumble after her, catching his feet on piles of stones, throwing out his hands when he fell forward. Lloyd barely had time to grab him and try to drag him back up to Raine as he reached out for the woman, yelling after her.

Lloyd watched Sheena disappear back into the chaos of the smoky village. "Go!" Lloyd yelled, trying to push the Chosen back up the rubble of the wall. He stayed put, refusing to leave his bodyguard.

"That's my _protection_ you're leaving behind!" the man's voice echoed angrily over the rumbling of the collapsing village.

After a moment of tortured thought, Lloyd grit his teeth in resolution. "Fine!" he shoved the obstinate man toward Raine. "Get out of here, I'll go back for her!"

"You're the Chosen, you need to live," Raine said, again grabbing the man about the wrist.

"No way, lady, I'm not going with you!"

When he protested, she pointed the pistol to his chest. "Are you sure you want to resist?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"You're right." She readjusted, aiming the pistol between his legs. "I need you alive but I don't need you sexually functional, get it?"

"Holy Martel, woman," he gasped, as she pulled him up the rubble. He looked behind him at Lloyd. "You better bring her back alive!"

Lloyd covered his face against the dust and scrambled back into the burning village, ignoring the shouts, screams, ringing explosions. He danced from flame to flame, like a djinn in Efreet's halls, looking for the woman he had tried to kill just minutes earlier.

"Sheena!" he called, wondering if he was pronouncing it right. He knew he didn't have time to think about such trivial things, so he crept deeper into the village, hurdling bodies, ducking behind trees.

He found her trying to wrench someone out from under a collapsed roof beam. When he grabbed her arm, she pulled out of his grip.

"He's already dead, Sheena!" he yelled. "Come on!"

"No, I can't let this happen again." Lloyd did not pry. He only grabbed her arm and pulled. "Let go of me!"

"You need to come with us! You can't save a dead man! You need to make sure the Chosen stays alive!"

She looked at him, eyes watering. It may have been the smoke, or it may have been something else that glazed over her stare. The next time he pulled her, she let him. He dragged her across the village, ducking flames, and clambered up the side of the collapsed wall. She regained her own footing on the way down, exiting the strange state that forced her to go back to try and salvage her village. When they slid to the bottom, he spied the waving white hand of Raine, poking above the dark foliage on the other side of the small clearing.

"We'd better make a run for it," Lloyd mumbled. He turned to her, wondering why he didn't just slit her throat while he had her here, surprised and shaken up, vulnerable. "You ready?" he asked her.

She nodded, and followed him as he sprinted across the clearing toward the shadows of the trees. He reached Raine and the Chosen with a deep sigh, and stopped to lean on his knees, panting.

"Who the hell was that?" he gasped. "_What_ the hell was that?"

"It's Pronyma," Raine answered, peeking over the bushes toward the burning village, eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"Cardinal number one. The Grandest of the Grand." Raine knelt back down, out of sight. "She must've known there was Renegade activity in the area and decided to attack. She may have followed Yuan here. Or… she may have followed us. As far as I was informed, she is not aware of Forcystus' defection."

"When did she get that…" Lloyd searched for the right word to describe the massive machine floating in the sky. "That goddamn flying ship? How are we going to outrun that?"

"We should head into Gaoracchia," Sheena said. "The forest is so thick we'll stay well hidden."

"I agree," Raine said. She looked at Lloyd, then Sheena, then the red-headed Chosen, who was checking his fingernails for any damage caused by the attack. "Lloyd. Sheena. You can kill one another later. For now, stay low, keep quiet, and I'll find a place to call Forcystus for a pickup." Raine made one sweep of the horizon before she slinked off into the dark trees, followed by Lloyd, the Chosen, and lastly Sheena, who could not stop herself from glancing over her shoulder at her burning village.

* * *

"What's this?" Anna asked. Kratos turned the bottle so she could look at the label. She struggled with the somewhat readable but decidedly foreign script as Kratos set two glasses down in front of them. "Altamira? Is that where this is from?"

"Yes." Kratos pulled up his own chair. He'd pilfered the small table from Kvar's office while the Cardinal was away on confidential business and set it up on the parapets overlooking the forest.

"Altamira is in Tethe'alla, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She popped the cork and poured herself a tiny bit. "I'm disappointed I never got to see it. Remember how you used to tell me all the time you'd take me there?"

"I would've… if I hadn't…"

"What's done is done," she said, swirling the aromatic wine around in her glass and taking a sip. "Oh damn, this is excellent. A little fruity, but still wonderful."

"South of Altamira are the best vineyards across both worlds," Kratos said, pouring himself a glass. "Although I haven't been there in years."

"You should've taken me right after we met. I would've married you immediately."

Kratos smiled. "It wasn't safe. If we had gone to Tethe'alla, they would've followed us. Their reach stretches far."

Anna watched her wine settle before lifting her eyes to the cloudless sky. "I wonder if our son has made it to the other side."

"Why would he? As far as they tell me, he's back in Triet. He's camping out a few miles from the outskirts of the town, but they're not telling me what he's doing."

"No doubt planning a counterattack." Anna sighed. "Or maybe he's moved back on to his treasure hunting. I can only hope." She paused, taking a sip and watching the sun creep behind the distant mountaintops. "Is he happy, Kratos?"

"He's safe."

"I didn't ask if he was safe. I asked if he was happy."

Kratos' eyes dove into his wine like he could find some sort of answer in it. "I don't know, Anna. That's up to him, I suppose."

"Take a guess."

Kratos sighed. "No. My guess is that he's not happy."

"That's what's wrong with you, Kratos. You've always worried too much about him being safe and secure. You're too concerned with what he needs, you don't know what he _needs_. He's not some artifact to be kept under glass; he's a person. He's going to get hurt, he's going to have his heart broken, he's going to get lost, get cheated, cry his eyes out. That's what it means to be human, although you may have forgotten that after all these centuries. He's not one of your soulless angel friends. And we're his parents, not his jailers."

Kratos eyed her over his wine. "And that was your problem, Anna. You've always treated him more of a friend than a son."

"As if you're in a position to criticize my parenting." Anna couldn't help but laugh. "And remember, Kratos, he _was_ my only friend, for a long time. And I was his. Where were you? Off sulking on the leash of your owners."

"I suppose I forfeited the moral high ground long ago on the matter," he admitted.

"No doubt about that. Pour me another glass."

Kratos leaned over and refilled her cup. It was almost relaxing, with Kvar gone about his business, leaving them free reign of the ranch. It almost felt homey, sitting under the sky and drinking wine with her husband. They hadn't done this in a long time, but it had been his way to treat her. An artsy cafe in Luin, a wine tasting around Asgard. If he deemed they were safe enough to be in public, he would buy her the best wines he could afford—all substandard—but the sentiment was not wasted on her.

"You know…" She barely plucked up the courage to start. "Even after all this… all the horrible things you did, all the impossible choices you've made, I still can't help but feel a little relieved to have you with me here." Kratos almost smiled. "But only because I know you're suffering too, in your own way."

He didn't answer. He just looked to the horizon, raising the glass to his lips. Before the glass touched skin, she thrust out her own and tapped it against his.

"Cheers. To us two idiots. A figurative monster and a literal one."

Her eyes told him he had no choice. "Cheers."

She would've never guessed that one day she'd be drinking Kvar's wine, overlooking his ranch like some sort of Desian officer. But she could not help but admit she deserved a little break, after suffering through his ranch once already. She wondered what it would be like the third time around, when they removed this exsphere and implanted a whole new one on a remaining limb. Anna the armless woman. She would be a source of horror stories among ranch prisoners for decades to come. She was almost proud.


	39. For the Sake of the World

Raine stopped suddenly, raising her fist over her shoulder. Lloyd froze in place behind her, eyes narrowing, ears pricking up. She backed up against the sickly grey trunk of a sloping tree, and looked over at the tiny path, thin, weak pillars of light barely illuminating the road ahead of them.

"Is it Pronyma?" Lloyd whispered in her ear, crouching down beside her in the safe cover of the underbrush.

"I don't think so, but we can't take any chances." She slowly drew her gun and rested it against her leg, waiting for the group of Desians to walk by. They marched in formation, helmets glinting, but there were only about a dozen or so. When Lloyd craned his neck to count them, he spied a familiar face at the forefront.

Raine stood. "Lord Forcystus," she called, stepping out into the road. He halted his men and returned her salute.

"Well met, Lieutenant Sage. After the urgency of your message I feared you were dead."

"I try my best not do die, sir." She motioned to Lloyd and the others, and they crawled out of the bush, exhausted, filthy and, in the Chosen and his bodyguard's case, utterly confused.

Forcystus eyed all of them with a smile on his face. "Well, well. You again have performed spectacularly." He sauntered up to the Chosen. "Master Wilder, I know this might be unexpected and frankly, quite absurd, but you're going to have to surrender yourself to me."

Lloyd saw an indignant look cross the Chosen's face, but the harrowing sound of missiles soaring overhead wiped it away. "Anything to keep me from getting blown to bits."

"Zelos, think about what you're doing," his bodyguard muttered.

"What, Sheena? Look at all those guns. You think if I run now they won't shoot out my legs? If I have to choose between having a buncha dudes protecting me and facing down that warship myself, then damn, it should be obvious."

Sheena sighed, and looked over at Lloyd. Lloyd gave her his most menacing frown. He wondered if they could just leave her here in the forest, so he wouldn't have to keep himself from screaming at her, from attacking her, demanding to know why she'd killed Colette. It had taken all his strength and survival instinct not to take her out while they were fleeing under the cover of wooded shadows.

"We'll make for my ship," Forcystus said. "We can discuss things later. At this moment, the primary concern is getting out of this forest before Pronyma descends and sends a search party after us."

With Desian guns trained on Zelos and his bodyguard, they made their way through the forest, silently, quickly. When they reached the foaming mouth of a black river, Forcystus ushered them into the belly of his half-submerged craft. After they were safely inside, the ship sank beneath the surface and sputtered along the massive river's bottom, out of sight of the warship high above.

Lloyd had never seen machines capable of such feats as flight or underwater navigation, but he did not have time to delve into the mechanical intricacies of such vehicles. Instead he focused on his own hands, shaking, trying to keep them from reaching out and strangling Sheena where she stood.

"Take the Chosen and his… companion to the stern," Forcystus commanded a guard. "Do not mistreat them."

A helmeted man nodded and escorted Zelos and Sheena out of the bridge, down a small hall, into the shadows. Lloyd was not sad to see Sheena go.

"Go north," Forcystus told the submarine's pilot. Lloyd did not know how he managed to steer the thing—the only sight he could make out through the craft's curved anterior windows was a blur of dark blue. "We make for the rift by Flanoir."

"That's Renegade territory, sir."

"Doesn't matter. They're in no fit state to stop us. We'll slip under without them noticing."

"Yessir." The pilot concentrated on the tabs and levers in front of him.

"So, it's begun," Raine said, crossing her arms. "Earlier than expected."

"What's begun?" Lloyd asked.

Forcystus turned to her. "It seems the instructions you left our engineers were extraordinarily precise. We could start the reactor much sooner than expected."

"What's begun?" Lloyd asked again.

Raine glanced over at him. "The inevitable obstacle to taking down Cruxis. Intra-Desian warfare."

Forcystus smiled at Lloyd's confused look. "You didn't think all of us were in on it, did you?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"You're right. Kvar and Pronyma are still wrapped around Yggdrasill's little finger. Now that they know Rodyle and I have turned against them, no doubt they will do all they can to ensure our failure."

"What of Magnius?" Raine asked.

"Ah, yes. Magnius. He's a problem we shall solve at a later date. Right now, I believe we should focus on making it back to Sylvarant alive. We'll be surfacing in Iselia. We're going to test the reactor. We can worry about Magnius when we have the time. Lieutenant Sage, I expect a full report from you in the near future."

"Yessir." Raine stepped forward, wrapping her hand around Lloyd's arm. "Come on. We're only being obstructions." He followed her to the back of the bridge and down into the vehicle's deeper chambers, where the guttural sound of the engine bounced off the metal walls, deafening him. Raine pulled him into a small cabin, and closed the door behind her, shutting out the sound of roaring machinery.

"Never thought I'd be on an underwater ship," Lloyd said, crawling to the one tiny window and looking out into the vast blue nothingness.

"Less seasickness down here," Raine said, "but, admittedly, more abject fear. All I can do when I'm on this thing is pray that there are no leaks."

"It looks sturdy enough," he said, eyeing the thick walls.

"Lloyd," Raine started, almost before he'd finished. "I need your exsphere now. I'm supposed to write an exhaustive report, and I need to look at it." Lloyd hesitated, hand hovering over the stone, and she noticed. "You haven't taken it off for weeks now. You even sleep with it on."

"Yeah… it feels… right, you know? Like it's supposed to be there. It kinda feels like my mother's around when I wear it."

Raine frowned. "I would advise not getting too attached to the thing. Keep in mind that it's merely a tool, nothing else."

Lloyd glanced down at the little rock before pinching it and pulling it away from his skin. "I know," he said. He could not shake the feeling that the exsphere was more than that.

"You will not always be in possession of it," Raine said, taking it from him. "We need this to take down Cruxis, so it's necessary to part with it for the sake of the world… and your mother."

Lloyd felt strangely emptier without his exsphere, but he sucked it up and let Raine look it over, eyes lighting up at its faint glow. When he stood up and walked to the door, she asked him where he was going.

"I'm going to talk to Sheena," he said.

"No, you're not," Raine answered. "Not alone. I will not be responsible for you spilling allies' blood in this ship."

"I'm not going to hurt her," Lloyd said, unsure of the truth of his own statement. "I just want to talk."

"I highly doubt that."

"It's not like I could kill her anyway, not with that… thing she has on her side. That dark creature."

"Oh, yes. The summon spirit. I was quite surprised myself, to discover there were still summoners. I had heard that there were none that came after Mithos."

"Mithos the Hero? He had one of those spirit-things?"

"He had many. Or he still has them, I suppose. The ones that she hasn't stolen from him."

"So, she can call the summon spirits, like Efreet?"

"Yes. Maybe not Efreet specifically, but those of his kind."

"Huh." He opened the door to the cabin and stepped out into the hall, Raine jumping up after him.

"Don't do anything violent," she told him, as she followed him down the narrow hallway. When he realized he didn't know where he was going, he let Raine show him the way. It seemed she had given up trying to stop him from speaking to the assassin-turned-bodyguard, and when they arrived at the Chosen's cabin, she convinced the guard to step aside and let them through.

When Lloyd entered the chamber, he was surprised to find Forcystus already there, chatting amicably with the Chosen. When he heard Lloyd enter, he glanced up and smiled.

"Perfect timing. We were discussing the subsequent steps in our plan. These steps involve you, so it's best you stay to listen."

Lloyd rooted himself to the floor, glancing from Forcystus, to the Chosen's nonchalant expression, to Sheena's concerned face. He tried to still his heart and leaned against the door. He could feel the warmth of Raine's presence beside him, and bolstered his confidence with it.

"I want you to tell me what's going on," Lloyd told him. "I feel like if you want my help you'd better tell me what you're going to use my exsphere for."

"_Your_ exsphere, Lloyd? Last time I checked, it was your mother's, and she's not around to claim it."

Lloyd clenched his fists, but relaxed when he felt Raine squeeze his elbow gently.

Forcystus saw the twitch of anger course through him, and smiled. "I suppose you ought to know, if you've come this far in our service. Very well. We're going to use your exsphere to power a weapon we've been developing, a weapon capable of taking down Cruxis. It has the power to break the barrier between this planet and Derris-Kharlan, should it come to that, though I'd rather use it on Vinheim itself and strike Yggdrasill at his heart. That's what we need the Chosen for."

"This Yggdrasill guy, he's the head of Cruxis?"

"Yes. Although you may know him as Mithos."

"Wha.." Lloyd did not finish the word before innumerable little pieces clacked suddenly into place in his head. He recalled his father's words about angels, about Mithos, about how he and the legendary hero had drifted apart. He should've guessed it long before this point. But something did not sit right with him. It didn't seem like a heroic thing to do, founding an organization as vile as Cruxis. "The Hero? He started Cruxis?"

"Yes. He originally split the world to end the Kharlan War."

"Yeah, I know."

"What you don't know is what happened after. Shortly after the end of the war, his beloved sister Martel died by human hands. Somehow he was able to preserve her. She isn't alive, and she isn't quite dead."

"She's a goddess," Lloyd guessed. It was what he had been taught for years.

"Not quite. She's certainly not mortal, since being able to die constitutes mortality. But Mithos has spent thousands of years slowly deifying her image in order to prepare for her resurrection. That's the final step of the Regeneration. The Chosen One becomes a vessel for Martel's soul, so that he might bring her to life once more."

Lloyd went cold. "So… that's why they all die at the end. They have to die to make room for Martel?"

"Something like that. But there has never been a successful one. With each Regeneration, mana flow reverses, the world goes on, but Martel stays in that sorry state her brother has kept her in for millennia. This whole endeavor is a convoluted, arduous and ultimately pointless attempt at resurrection. All the suffering, all the Regeneration journeys, the human ranches… the ulterior purpose is to bring her back to life."

"I can see why Mithos would want to resurrect his sister, if he loved her," Lloyd said. "But I don't see what you get out of this. What do the Desians get? How did he convince so many people to join Cruxis, if he's just doing it for his sister?"

"Smart boy, Lloyd." Forcystus smiled. "I asked myself that same question for years. Mithos promised us many things. He promised half-elves a safe place to live. A community, an opportunity to live amongst our own kind and escape the despotic rule of humans. He promised us shelter, work, solidarity, a future. He promised us a Golden Age of Half-Elves. An age where we are not trampled underfoot like dirt, traded and enslaved like animals, massacred without pity. I wanted to see that world come about."

"Well, so do I," Lloyd said. "If there was true equality, there would be no ranches."

"Indeed there wouldn't. And in Mithos' future, there would be no need for exspheres, no need for ranches, or war, or anything. But he did not deliver everything he promised. And he never will." Forcystus paused. "Do you know why there are mana shortages at all? Why Sylvarant suffers from droughts and famine so often?"

"Because Tethe'alla steals all the mana."

"Because each and every drop of mana that can be spared goes to maintaining Martel's body. Mithos is so concerned with her, he has let the rest of us suffer the consequences of his greed. He is sapping the world's resources, all for his own pointless gain. I used to believe he would lead us into an age of peace. But there will be no Golden Age if there is no mana left for us."

"So you think your golden age will happen if you can retake Derris-Kharlan," Lloyd said.

"That is our hope. We only wish to go back to the source of our tainted blood. To leave a world that never wanted us in the first place. To leave in peace."

"That all sounds a little airy-fairy to me," the Chosen said, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. "All this golden-age stuff."

"I don't think it's your place to judge," Forcystus said. "Especially since I have offered you a way to escape your fate as Chosen."

"Yeah, not dying does seem like a pretty good deal," he replied. "But I can't help but get this teensy feeling that you've bitten off more than you can chew. Cruxis is a big, big baddie. I'd rather be on their side if you fail."

"You may think yourself an ally of theirs, but remember this: if we destroy Cruxis, you get to live. If Cruxis wins, even if they spare you initially, you still get to die as a vessel for Martel."

"It's his duty," Sheena put in. "It's his obligation to Tethe'alla. If it ever comes to it, he'll have to complete the Regeneration and secure our mana supply a little longer. That's his job."

The Chosen snorted. "Oh please, Sheena. What has Tethe'alla ever done for me?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Look, I'm just saying, if we take down all those bad guys upstairs, there'll be no _need_ for duty. For obligations. I'll be free. And so'll you. You won't have to follow me around anymore. You won't have to kill whoever the Church says anymore."

Sheena opened her mouth, then shut it again. Lloyd looked over at her, narrowing his eyes.

"They'll be no competition between our worlds anymore," he said. "There'll be no Chosens, so there'll be no Chosens to kill."

"No Regeneration, no Tower, no angels, no ranches… just the world as it used to be," Forcystus said. "But first thing's first. We're going to use your exsphere to power the mana cannon. We're going to ask the Chosen here to open the Tower for us so we don't have to waste the cannon tearing apart the barrier between Derris-Kharlan and our worlds. Our engineers tell me we have one good shot, so we have to make it count. We shoot straight for Mithos' heart, at his castle. We destroy his sister, we destroy him, we destroy all of Welgaia."

"But what about all the people that live there?" Lloyd asked.

"Those aren't people, Lloyd. They're empty shells. Automatons. They're lifeless beings, they're already dead. They're much like Martel herself, but they can move and speak. They're what Mithos considers the perfect being. He plans for the entire world to look like Welgaia one day. And we can't have that. That is no Golden Age. That's hell." Lloyd bit his lip as Forcystus stood up. "I will not be responsible for dragging my entire race into the inferno with Mithos. We're going to escape him. You can help us, Lloyd. You can either be a willing agent in destroying the people that wrecked the world, that took your mother from you, that corrupted and twisted your father. Or you can do nothing, give up and be implicit in the world's destruction. Your choice."

"I think you know my choice," Lloyd said.

The smile Forcystus gave him sent chills down his spine, but whether they were of fear, resentment, or awe, he could not tell. "Good. I hope you are ready to see Iselia again. It has changed since you were last there."


	40. Aspirations

Lloyd stood in the empty halls of the facility he'd grown up in, stomach churning. He walked in silence, examining all the empty rooms, the unlocked doors, the dust gathering in the corners. He walked north from the entrance, leaving Forcystus and his company to themselves. They didn't hold him back, they didn't talk to him. The way he fell into a deep, unbreakable silence must've told them they could not stop him from approaching the ranch.

Waves of familiarity coursed through him, sickened him. He touched every surface, he examined every doorway. He found the trapdoors where he had been sent into the walls of the building to chase out the rats and repair the frayed wires. He no longer could fit through the narrow entrances, but he knew that somewhere within these walls, the symbols of a boy long dead still glinted on machinery. Lloyd held his head, wondering if he would make it back out. He felt faint all of a sudden.

Almost by instinct, he walked to Block C. Empty, silent Block C, once so full of children, was now the quietest part of the ranch. It seemed like a bad dream to him, like he was walking through a memory he could not control. He almost expected to wake up at any time, safe in his tent in Triet, his mother beside him, stroking his sweaty forehead and offering him tea.

He didn't wake up. He just entered the old sleeping chamber, now much, much smaller than he remembered, cots pushed up against the wall, gathering dust. The liberation of the ranch had been hasty, uncontrolled, and many of the children left their sheets tossed haphazardly, crumpled at the feet of their beds. Some of the cots had no sheets at all.

He counted the beds from the east wall, until he came upon his own. He stared at it for a little while, marveling at how tiny it was. He didn't know what he was doing when he sat down at its foot and scooted up to what remained of the pillow. He spread himself across the cot, feet hanging off the end, and stared up at the ceiling.

His heart thumped in his chest with such agony he had to clutch at his ribs. His breath came short and ragged, the sounds of the alarm screeched through his head, the shouts of guards and buzzing electric lights rang in his ears. He tried to cover them against the sound, but he could hear the breathing of the asthmatic boy, dying a few cots away from him, he could hear the squeaking of the thousands of rats he'd killed, he could hear the scratching of the screwdriver as he left a triangle in the side of the boiler pipe, for his only friend to discover later.

And then there was silence, and his heart calmed. He did not take his eyes from the ceiling, but he realized he was not alone. He looked up to see Raine standing in the doorway, wearing a concerned frown.

"Lloyd," she started, walking carefully past the rows of cots. When he didn't get up to greet her, she sat herself on the cot adjacent to his. "You don't have to torture yourself like this."

"I'm not torturing myself," he said, not taking his eyes off a stain in the ceiling he found particularly interesting.

"You're certainly not reliving the glory days," she sighed, leaning back and laying her head on the pillow.

"You knew what went on here, didn't you?" Lloyd asked. "You knew there were kids here. You knew, and you worked for Forcystus anyway."

"I did. I didn't know what else to do."

"That's what my father said. He said that after he thought he'd lost us, he didn't have any choice but to go back to Cruxis, but he did. He could've looked for us. He could've done a million different things, and he didn't." Lloyd put his hand over his face. "And now I'm doing the same thing. I'm working with the man who kept me locked in here for years. Who has tortured countless people. And I have no excuse."

"You just want to get your mother back. I understand that. I would've done anything to bring back my little brother."

"I know I shouldn't. I know there has to be some other way."

"But there's not. That's the plight of those without power, Lloyd. We have to latch onto those that do, and hope that their goals align with ours."

"I'd much rather have the power to choose for myself."

"Well," Raine sat up. "You don't. Neither do I. We must do what we can." She held out her hand to him, and he took it. Her fingers were warm in his. "Forcystus sent me to come get you. He says he regrets you have to be back here, but we have to load up the mana reactor before we can take it to the cannon. Your help would be appreciated."

"What can I do? I don't know how the reactor or the cannon work."

"It doesn't matter. I can train you. I've trained countless other humans, and they've all be moderately helpful."

"Humans, why?"

"Because… sometimes, when a person who comes into the ranch has some skill with machinery, Rodyle will agree to put off the exsphere implantation if we can utilize their labor. Any physicist, chemist, mechanic or even geologist that comes into the ranch, I try to snatch up if I can. I have quite a few humans in subordinate scientific positions, and in return, they don't have to go through the process of exsphere refinement."

Lloyd looked her over. "Of course you would do something like that. I can't imagine you wouldn't try your best to save who you could."

She blushed a little, turning her head. "Come on. Everyone's in the reactor chamber."

He followed her out of Block C, up the maintenance stairs—the same set, he noticed—that his mother had dragged him down the night of their escape. He wondered if the laundry facility fan was still broken—he supposed not. They'd probably fixed everything, tightened security, buried what remained of the woman his mother had killed. He never told her that he had seen her slit her throat and dump the body in the bleach vat, and he figured he never would. She did not need to know.

* * *

The reactor chamber glowed with a serene white light, energy emanating from the massive device situated far below the metal walkway. Lloyd's skin prickled, his hair stood on end, and he found himself looking over the railing, down into the luminescent reactor. The air inside the chamber was thick with mana, and he couldn't help but cough a few times as Raine pulled him to her side, away from the darkened figures of the Chosen and his bodyguard. Forcystus leaned over the balcony beside Lloyd, nothing but pleased with the machine.

"I cannot believe your calculations were so accurate," he mumbled—Lloyd assumed he was speaking to Raine. "And within such a tight margin of error."

Raine shrugged. "I did quite a bit of extrapolation."

"My engineers tell me there are whole theories wrapped up in your equations they've never even heard of. One of them tried to derive one, and failed utterly. They're foaming at the mouth to hear your explanations."

"They're not that difficult. I can explain it to them on the way to the remote island ranch, if need be."

Forcystus shook his head. "It's because of your very special proclivity for weaponry that I'm going to assign you to another task."

Raine deflated, but nodded anyway. "Yessir. I assume it has to do with the other Cardinals. One is amassing a counterattack, I would guess."

"Pronyma is still in Tethe'alla, scouting for us. Kvar is holed up in his ranch. He's fortified the whole thing against intruders, so we're not going to get in there anytime soon." Lloyd lowered his head as the reunion with his mother slipped a little further away from him. "It's Magnius I'm concerned with."

"Magnius?"

"Yes. When word got out about what I'd done, all hell broke loose. So did he. He's rampaging across the southern continent right now. He does not seem concerned with our little war. He has refused to answer any messages from me or Rodyle—I'm assuming he's ignoring Kvar and Pronyma as well. If he were teaming up with them, no doubt he wouldn't be gallivanting across the countryside, wreaking havoc seemingly only for his own pleasure."

"I see."

Focystus turned away from the glow of the reactor and looked at his small party of bedraggled subordinates. Sheena and the Chosen leaned against the railing, one nonchalant, the other shadowed by doubt. "I expect he's been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Magnius did not strike me as the kind of meticulous overseer a ranch requires."

"Me neither, sir. Is the faction we sent to his ranch still with him?" Raine asked.

"Yes, fortunately. You are to meet them outside of Palmacosta. It seems Magnius is on his way there, burning whatever homesteads he finds. I believe his intention is to claim the city for himself. We're going to try to convince him that he has better, more important things to do with his time. And if not, well, I suppose we must end him."

"Yessir."

Forcystus' eye settled on Lloyd, then moved to Raine. "Lloyd, you may take your exsphere into the field. Lieutenant Sage, you are to make sure it does not fall into enemy hands. Record its behavior, write me a report." He focused his gaze on the two Tethe'allans. "You two will stay here, with me. Ms. Fujibayashi, keep the Chosen safe. I am needed in the transport ship. We'll meet you at Rodyle's ranch when you are finished. Then we make our move. Lloyd, that is the time we take down Kvar and get your mother back."

Lloyd sighed, relieved the end was in sight. He had been away from her for so long, with nothing but the vague hope of getting her back, and now he only had a few tasks ahead of him before he would see her again. He was not sure if she had survived this long, or if she would still be alive by the time he found her, but if destroying Kvar—and his father—was in the near future, he would have to at least look forward to that. He tried not to clench his fists as he walked back down the hall with Raine, dismissed to pursue their next assignment.

* * *

"I'm so relieved we get to travel across land," Raine said, reading against the parked side of the hovercraft. It was a similar model to the one Lloyd had refurbished so long ago, and he took the wheel easily. They had managed to pilot it across the flatter parts of the prairies, and now set up camp where the green grasses began to make way for yellowed fields. In another few hours of driving, they would be in the white sands of the Triet desert.

"Me too." Lloyd set up the traveling stove and put on a pot of water. He was always the one who had to cook in these instances, since Raine would no doubt manage to set the entire grassland aflame if she had been given the task. He poured some rice into the small pot and let it simmer. The sun set completely behind the western hills and the first few stars of the evening faded into view. "Hey, Raine. I know Forcystus said for us to go straight through the desert, but we should stop in Triet."

"No. We shouldn't. Look, Lloyd, I know you'd like to visit your home, but that's Renegade territory. Heavily monitored. We should spend no more time there than we have to." Her eyes followed him as he climbed back up into the hovercraft. "What are you doing?"

"I can fix the radio so we get their stations. We can listen in on their activities, track them." He glanced across the control board, and was finally able to read the labels on the machine. "This is the satellite board. If I can break it in just the right way, we can use this to get their positions."

"You sure know a lot about that little vehicle."

"I fixed one, a few years ago. I found it in a garbage pile and got it up and running. The Des—the Renegades found out, though. I think they tracked it down and wrecked it."

"Can't blame them. I wouldn't want a nosy kid like you listening in on my business."

Lloyd turned a few knobs. "It was actually fun. There was this one lady pilot, who kept getting hit on by this really pathetic guy. He'd tune into the frequency and fake an emergency just so he could make some flirty pun. It was awful."

"That poor woman. Although, given the Renegades' reputation for ineptitude, it doesn't surprise me to learn they use their radios so inappropriately."

Lloyd sat back in the driver's seat. "I didn't mind them. Most of them were decent. They didn't round people up and haul them off to ranches."

"This is true. But now, neither do we."

Lloyd heard a slight stirring behind him. He climbed over the seat, thinking perhaps a wayward fox or squirrel had found its way into their food stores. He crawled to the back of the craft, and pulled off the black tarp covering their supplies. When he found what was underneath, he sat back against the seat and sighed loudly.

"Raine, we've got company."

She bolted upright, glanced over the side of the hovercraft and groaned. "You two."

The Chosen and his bodyguard, curled up in impossibly tight proximity, looked up at her guiltily. "I tried to stop him," Sheena said. "I told him it was dangerous."

"Oh, come on, Sheena," Zelos replied, prying himself from the tiny space. "You were just as curious to see Sylvarant as I was."

"I've already _seen_ it, you nitwit."

"Will you shut your spewing mouth?" Raine said, pulling herself into the hovercraft. She sat in the passenger seat, turning on the interface and fiddling with the radio. "I'm calling Forcystus. They'll come pick you up and take you back to the ranch." She turned the knobs and got only static. "Lloyd, I need you to fix this."

He tried, and only got similar results.

"Ha! Looks like fate," the Chosen smiled. "We're stuck with you."

Raine held her head and sighed. "Fine. When we get a signal, we'll call for a pickup. For now, you can keep quiet and not get in our way."

Zelos slid over the side of the hovercraft and landed a little too close to Raine for Lloyd's comfort. "So, smells like dinner's ready. I'm starving."

"Knock yourself out," Lloyd groaned. "If you help cook."

"Heh, I'm the best cook I know." He squatted by the tiny stove and jiggled the pot handle. "Not much in there, huh?"

"Excuse me if I was cooking for two," Lloyd said. "I didn't know we had a couple of stowaways." He sat beside Raine, looking over her shoulder to the tome she had propped open on her lap. It seemed their unexpected company did not stop her from picking up her book and continuing her reading. He wished he had her concentration. The place was starting to feel a little crowded.

He walked away from the hovercraft, leaving the Chosen to prattle on by the stove. Lloyd found a nice quiet place and sat himself down on the grass, staring up at the sky. It seemed to him like it had been such a long time since he'd seen the stars. The last time he'd tried to sit and look at them, his father had been beside him. That was back when he still trusted the bastard. He sighed, lowering his eyes to his feet. He wondered where the man was—maybe still with his mother. Maybe he had gone back to Cruxis, and was looking down on all of them from Welgaia. Lloyd tried to convince himself he did not care. But he couldn't help dreading the day when he knew he would have to meet Kratos again. He wondered if he was now strong enough to take down the man. Or if he would fall, as he always did, under his father's sword.

"Hey."

Lloyd turned his head at the unexpected voice. Sheena stood above him, blocking the stars. He narrowed his eyes at her but made no move to fight.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you."

"What did you want to say?" he growled.

"I wanted to thank you. For coming after me in Mizuho. I don't know what came over me."

_I don__'__t know what came over me, either_, he thought. "It was your village. You probably had family there. No one would blame you for going back." He kept his tone stern, emotionless. He kept his hands in his pockets so she wouldn't see them shake.

"I know you must want to kill me, for what I did. But you saved me. Why?"

"I don't know."

"I… won't tell you I'm sorry for what I did. I had to kill your Chosen to protect my world. I did it once, I'd do it again."

Lloyd swallowed the lump in his throat. He turned back to the sky as Sheena dared to sit beside him. "You knew about the mana flow, right? You knew the Desians would come over to your world if we completed the Regeneration."

"Yeah. I wasn't going to let that happen, especially after I saw what they were doing to the people of Sylvarant."

"Then you were only doing what you thought was right. She would've died anyway, if she went on the journey." Lloyd sighed. "I guess… I guess it's not exactly your fault you had to do it. It's Yggdrasill's. He's the one that put the system in place. He's the one that gave up his ideal of peace and made the worlds compete for mana."

"So let's agree he's our common enemy. And you know what they say about the enemy of my enemy."

Lloyd gave her a confused look, and she sighed.

"Let's call a truce, then. Lloyd, right?" She held out her hand, and slowly, reluctantly, he took it. "I suppose I never really did introduce myself to you. I'm Sheena Fujibayashi."

It felt strange, shaking the hand that had killed Colette. He felt a little sick touching her, but he quelled his nausea for the sake of the greater good, as Raine called it. He knew it would be hard, but he had already found himself allied with some unlikely culprits. After all, he was working for the man that had made his childhood hell. He could only comfort himself with the fact that it could be worse.

"So… you're a summoner, huh?" he asked.

"Yup. Just like Mithos."

"Was that big thing… back in Mizuho—"

"Shadow. An elemental spirit. I've made pacts with all the ones from Tethe'alla. With… help, of course. From the Renegades."

"I was going to ask you about them. They brought you over to Sylvarant, I'm guessing."

"Yeah. How did you know?"

Lloyd shrugged. "Because Cruxis wouldn't. The only other people I know who have access to both worlds are the Renegades."

"Yeah… well… we haven't had contact with them since Yuan ditched us at Mizuho. The coward."

Lloyd sighed. "As far as anti-Cruxis factions go, you're probably in the better one. Yuan tried to kill me to get my dad to ditch Cruxis—didn't work. Nothing he did worked."

"Your father works for them?"

"Yeah. He's one of the Seraphim. Or so they tell me. I don't really know what that means."

"So… you're probably going to have to end up fighting him."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Rough." She hugged her knees to her chest. "It's a shit feeling, isn't it?"

"What feeling?"

"Never mind. My family isn't so keen on me, either." She laughed cynically. "I did end up killing half of 'em. When I made my very first pact. The spirit went out of control and razed the village." Her face contorted into an expression Lloyd could not read. "I only managed to finish the pact out of sheer spite. You'd be surprised at how much strength you can pull from that kind of hatred."

Lloyd looked at her. He wondered if something like a childhood massacre would be enough to turn someone down the path of a hired killer. He stood up, offering to help her off the ground. She ignored his gesture and pulled herself up. She silently followed him back to the hovercraft, where Zelos' irritating voice echoed from the campsite.

"Looks like he's regaling Lieutenant Sage with a story," Sheena said.

"Poor Raine."

He and Sheena sat by the tiny stove, the smell of spicy rice curling around their nostrils. When the smell hit his nose, Lloyd was a little relieved he had left the cooking to Zelos. He sat down beside Raine, and she dropped something onto his lap.

"What, really?" he groaned, looking down at _A History of Magitechnology_. "I'm already halfway through it. Don't hurry me."

"You have a lot of catching up to do if you want to learn how the mana cannon works. And I have every intention of teaching you."

"Dammit, Raine, I'm a backyard mechanic, not a scientist."

"Read." Raine glanced up to Zelos and Sheena, who stared at her, perhaps holding in laughter. "And what are you two cretins looking at?" They each turned away, focusing on their paltry meals. Lloyd tried to lose himself in the machines of the Kharlan War, which Tethe'allan university developed which groundbreaking weapon, who was responsible for what advancement and how it worked. Everything was above his head, he figured Raine knew that too, but she made him read anyway.

_A History of Magitechnology _made him miss his old _Birdwatcher__'__s Guide_. Even when he sat supposedly engrossed in its pages, he couldn't stop himself from filing through the list of birds he'd learned about. It all seemed so long ago, the last time he and Raine were in Palmacosta. He couldn't even read then. It still shocked him, sometimes, to think about how far he'd come.

* * *

"Hey, Raine," he said, after Sheena and Zelos had already fallen asleep in the back of the hovercraft. "If you were a bird, I think you'd be a kingfisher."

"What makes you say that?" Raine asked.

"I dunno. You're fearless, I guess. You have the right hair for a kingfisher—all those bright spiky plumes."

"If we're going on looks alone, then you'd have to be a cardinal. What with his feathers sticking up every which way."

"I'm a sparrow through and through."

"Really."

Lloyd nodded, putting his book down. He lay against the side of the hovercraft and closed his eyes. "Hey, Raine. You speak any Trieti?"

"Only very little."

"Oh. Guess we can't talk privately then, with those two hanging about."

"Not unless you speak Elvish, ancient Asgardian, or Old Interworld. I can speak a little of the Angelic tongue, but not much. A couple of spirit dialects."

"Gods, you have a whole library of languages up in your head."

"I've fallen quite out of practice with a few of them, I hate to say."

"Maybe we can add Trieti to the list. It's not that difficult."

"No, I've heard it's not. And it never hurts to learn something new."

Lloyd sank down into the grass, resting his head on the soft part of his pack. He paused, looking up at the sky. "What did you want to do with your life?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, before you became a Desian. What did you want to be?"

"I suppose… if everything worked out perfectly, I would've been an archeologist."

"Huh, really? Even when you're so good at other sciences?"

She shrugged. "It was what I was passionate about. Archeology and healing magic. But I left both those behind when I became a Desian. It was just what had to be done."

"Well, maybe when this whole mess is over, you can go back to it. You'd have to learn Trieti to read any of the ancient manuscripts anyway."

"I guess I would. But… I'm not sure if I'm going to go back to anything after this."

"Oh yeah. Derris-Kharlan and all that. So you're not gonna pay a visit to Sylvarant after, are you?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"At least stay for my mother's wedding. I'm going to play oud."

Raine lowered her gaze. "I'll try."

"I think I'm gonna miss you, you know."

She swallowed audibly. "It's not for a long time yet. So don't worry about it." She closed her book and lay down across from him. "Well, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What were your aspirations, before you found yourself caught up in this fiasco?"

"Oh, I didn't have big dreams. I just wanted to play music and make a little money. I didn't have anything figured out."

"Well, you're still young. You've plenty to plan for."

He tilted his head up to her. "So are you, Raine. You always act like such a wizened old lady, but you're probably not much older than I am."

Raine closed her eyes. "No. Not by much. But you'll never be able to tell. Elven blood."

"Ah." He started to nod off. "You're gonna live forever."

"No, not forever."

_Not forever_. It was the same sentiment his father had expressed when Lloyd confronted him about his angelic longevity. He supposed nothing lasted forever, especially not the good things. But he could make damn sure that they lasted as long as possible.


	41. Dying Light

"What's all this extra security for?" Anna asked. She stared over the edge of the wall, into the forest. "The only thing out there that seems to be trying to get in is poor Noishe."

"I know," Kratos sighed. "I keep telling him to go find Lloyd, but the stubborn bastard refuses. He won't tell me why." Kratos walked up beside her, following her gaze to a rustling in the bushes. "At least they're not shooting at him anymore."

"Then what do they need all these extra guards for? And _those_?" She pointed to a fleet of what looked like tanks, stationed around the perimeter of the ranch's property, huge guns aimed toward the rest of the world.

"Kvar says there is an increase in Renegade activity around these parts."

"Renegades? I've heard of them. Some of the guards at the old ranch talked about them. They're the ones who are trying their damnedest to destroy the Desians, right?"

"Yes. But _trying_ is the key word. They have never managed to so much as dismantle a single ranch. In the decades they've been around they've not progressed as far as to pose any real threat. Which is why I think Kvar is lying to me. Something much bigger is going on here."

Anna shrugged. "Could be that the Renegades finally pulled themselves together."

"It could be. Knowing Yuan, though, I doubt he would launch a full-scale attack on any ranches—especially one as efficient as Kvar's. And you shouldn't hope for the Renegades' success, either. If they win, they're going to kill you, kill me—they already tried to kill Lloyd once." He paused at her incredulous look. "It didn't work. He's fine."

"Well, I suppose they're not the team I should gamble on, then." Anna sighed. "But it leaves me with the question: who _should_ I gamble on? Who am I supposed to root for, if Cruxis is going to kill me, and their enemies are going to kill me—hell, even my own body is starting to turn against me." As if hearing itself disparaged, her remaining arm throbbed, sending waves of stinging pain from her exsphere all the way up to her shoulder.

"I'm not sure if you should root for anyone," Kratos said. He paused, looking out over the trees to where some sort of animal prowled through the underbrush. "Anna. If it should be the Renegades, and they launch an attack on the ranch, I want you to stay with me. If they find out you're an Angelus Project subject, there's not telling what they'll do to you."

She looked down at her exsphere. "You don't think it's the Renegades, though. Why don't you go find out?"

"Because as soon as I leave your side, Kvar will take my place. You'd much rather have me hovering over you than him."

"I'll admit to that."

"I'll see if anyone in this goddamned place will tell me what's going on. But if they don't, I'll handle whatever happens. I'll keep you safe."

"Keep me safe… What a laugh." Anna, exhausted, found she had to sit down. Kratos was beside her, ever attentive. "Do… do you think I'm going to survive this thing?" she asked.

"I do. You survived the first one. If Kvar is satisfied with this one, I'll see about letting you go back to the desert."

"Gods, Kratos, he'll never be satisfied. As long as he can squeeze something out of me, he'll try."

"I don't think he'll need to." Kratos turned his gaze to the sky. "The Desians are callous, but they're efficient. They will not go out of their way to grow another exsphere if they don't think you're worth it. If you're too weak."

"What makes you think they won't just kill me at that point? What makes you so sure they'll let me go back to the desert?"

Kratos pursed his lips. She had to nudge him to get him to answer. "I'm not sure. But I do know that for Yggdrasill's purposes, he does not need more than one Angelus exsphere. Kvar, I'm sure, would like to make more, but I will speak with Yggdrasill. Once he has his own, then he will not care what happens beyond that. If he doesn't care, then I will have free reign to defy Kvar."

"What does your precious Yggdrasill need with it?"

"It's for when Martel wakes up."

Anna lowered her eyes. "Oh. Yes. I'd forgotten about her." She leaned against Kratos, sighing with exhaustion. He wrapped one arm around her. "I wonder what she would think of all this. From what you've told me about her, she seems like a reasonable woman."

"She'd be appalled, as we all are. But she gave into Mithos' desires as often as Yuan or I. I fear she's just as guilty as the rest of us for putting the world in this state. But everything that happened after that… that is wholly our fault. She is innocent, but she does have a role to play. It's because of her that Mithos is doing what he's doing."

"So why not just kill her?"

"It's not that easy."

"Shh, I know." Anna yawned and lay her head on his shoulder. "This whole world is such a convoluted debacle. I wish I didn't know any of this. I wish you hadn't told me."

"You practically forced me to tell you, remember? You would never let me alone."

"Of course I did. I was young, impatient, curious, ignorant. I didn't know what was good for me. I should've run off as soon as we got out of earshot of the ranch."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't think I could. I knew I needed you to survive. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know why there was an exsphere on me I couldn't get off. I didn't know why mine was different, or how I might survive it. I needed you to answer these things for me. I needed you to keep me alive."

"Such a wonderful job I did," Kratos growled.

Anna stared at his hands, folded between his knees. He always did that when he was feeling contrite or worried. He'd done it a lot when they escaped from Kvar's ranch the first time, long ago. "You know," Anna started, unsure if she intended to hurt him or not. "I didn't love you, at first."

"I suspected you didn't. But it didn't stop me from loving you."

"I needed you to. That night in Luin, when I clung to you and told you I loved you, I lied. I lied and lied and sucked up and put on the most important performance of my life. If you left me alone, I thought I would die. I knew they'd find me and drag me back to the ranch."

"They might've."

"So I latched onto you and lied through my teeth. And you bought it. Gods, for so long, you bought it."

"A testament to your theatrical ability, no doubt."

"Certainly. I was good. I was very good. I thought I was playing you quite well. Until one day, when I woke up beside you, and I realized I had been acting a little too hard. I looked over at you and realized that I _was_ in love. It was so strange. Surely you know I've had my fair share of lovers, but I'd never, ever been in love. It just snapped one day. I woke up, looked over at you and thought, 'I'd die for this man.'" She stopped to laugh a little. "And when I was in labor with Lloyd, I was sure I was going to. I regretted ever thinking that, when the contractions got bad."

"I can hardly blame you."

"I was so convinced you'd killed me. Even after all those months of horrible sickness, the cravings, the weeks of unexplainable depression, I didn't know the worst was yet to come." She smiled a little. "I don't know how some women ever even think about having another child after that."

"Some don't have it as tough as you did."

"And how many ladies have you seen give birth in your lifetime?"

"More than you'd think."

"Forget it. Don't tell me about them. I don't want to know about all the families you've started over four thousand years."

"Gods, Anna, none of those infants were _mine_."

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

He laughed. She felt inescapably weary all of a sudden.

"Kratos. It's acting up. I'm tired. Put me to bed."

"All right."

"And stay with me this time. It's cold in there."

He looked at her with a softness in his eyes she hadn't seen in more than a decade. It was as if he was slowly coming back to life before her, piece by piece. Somehow, her real husband seemed to be crawling out of the soulless angel and emerging a new man, like a reptile shedding its skin. It unnerved her a little, to see him change so profoundly, but she knew that if she was ever to escape this place and see Lloyd again, she would have to bring him back over to her side.

She squeezed his hand as he led her to her private sleeping chamber. When she lay on her side, weighed down with fatigue, he wrapped his arms around her and held her warmly until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Lloyd slowed the hovercraft to a halt a few miles out of Triet, in the same shady spot where he kept his old one. The town was still far enough away that it could easily be mistaken for a fleck of a shadow on a distant sand dune. Maybe Raine would not notice he was bringing them a little too close to his home.

"Hell, these uniforms are hot," he said, pulling at his collar. Zelos and Sheena, apparently desiccated by the dry wind, lay in the back of the hovercraft, suffering loudly. Raine sat at the control board, trying to get the radio up and running. After a few minutes of static she eventually got the Iselia ranch operator.

"I suspect you're missing a Chosen," she told the man on the other end.

"I suspect we are."

"Put me through to Forcystus."

"No can do, ma'am. He's left for the remote island ranch. He has his hands full with the logistics of transporting the mana reactor. I haven't been able to get through to him myself, just to report the incident of the Chosen's disappearance."

"Well, he's safe with me. Tell Forcystus to contact me when he can."

"Good to hear. I will. For now, keep the Chosen with you. Keep a close eye on him—evidently he's proven to be a slippery little fish."

"Yessir." Raine cut herself off and slid down into the seat, sighing. She crossed her arms and looked up into the sky, rapidly darkening into pinkish brown with the setting sun. "What a strange sky here," she said.

"Triet's famous for it," Lloyd answered. "The sky, and ruins, and opiates."

"Really? Sounds like an interesting venue." She kept her gaze focused above her until the very first came to life. "I suppose we ought to make camp. Here is as good a place as any."

Lloyd secretly thanked his lucky stars she didn't make him drive onward. He had planned their path so precisely in his head, just fast enough to make sure Raine did not notice he was crawling past Triet, just slow enough that by the time the sun set he'd still be within walking distance of his old home.

He jumped off the hovercraft and banged on its side, waking up the two sleeping stowaways in the back.

"What? Are we there?" Zelos poked his head from the craft, red hair disheveled and unruly.

"We're somewhere, all right," Lloyd answered. "Get down here and cook. We're camping here for the night."

"Alrighty then. What do we have in our stash?" Zelos crawled through the supplies like a rat, picking this and that, stuffing it into his arms and passing it down to Sheena for setup. It was only a few minutes before the tiny stove was up and running, small flame flickering in the oppressive dark.

Raine seemed to be stuck in thought. She did not have her omnipresent book open in front of her, but her hands were folded in her lap, her gaze tuned into the shadowy cracks between her fingers.

"What's wrong, beauty?" Zelos asked, stirring the pot. "You're looking awfully philosophical over there."

Raine looked up at him with a coldness in her gaze that Lloyd had not seen in a long time. "Why did you feel the need to crawl into the back of our hovercraft?" she asked, not without a tone of disdain.

Zelos seemed taken aback. "I wanted to explore the declining world, of course. I gotta expand my horizons, you know."

Raine looked over at Lloyd, then at Sheena, then back to Zelos. "I find it suspiciously convenient that you just happened to hitch a ride on a craft heading right into Renegade territory." She narrowed her eyes. "Since the first time I saw you, you were in the company of the Renegade leader, I would not be surprised to see you attempt to make for his base."

"What? Nah, I didn't even know it was down here. I'm from Tethe'alla, remember? I don't even know where their base is on _that_ side."

"Perhaps not, but she does." Raine eyed Sheena.

"Yeah, well, it was the Renegades that gave me the means to come over here and kill the Chosen on this side. The Church ordered it, the Renegades made it possible for me to carry out. They got me over here, they gave me her location, sent me to her." Lloyd realized he was clenching his jaw, and tried to relax. Sheena glanced over to him, taking in his odious stare. "But I haven't had any contact with him since Mizuho. I swear. It's like he disappeared off the map."

"You would understand if I didn't believe you," Raine said.

Sheena lowered her head. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Then you cannot blame me for tying you up tonight. We will be keeping you restrained, when not under direct supervision, until we get to the other end of the desert. When I'm confident you will not be able to outrun me. When I'm sure you'll not be able to find the Renegades before I shoot you both down."

Zelos gave her a smirk that Lloyd could only interpret as half self-effacing, half threatening. "Wow. Okay, lady. That's some heavy shit." He shrugged, lowering his intense blue eyes back to the cooking pot. "I mean, I'm not too upset you wanna tie me up. If you're into that kinky stuff, I'll roll with it."

"Shut up, Zelos," Sheena sighed.

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. "I don't see why I'd want to go back to the Renegades anyway. They didn't promise me anything really worthwhile. 'The world will thank you,' they said. Thank me, my ass. All the world wants me to do is crawl to the Tower and die up there. At least Forcystus said I'll get to live through the whole ordeal. Then maybe I'll kick off the shoes of Chosen and pursue my real dreams."

"What dreams?" Sheena laughed. "Chasing tail all day?"

"I've been thinking of joining the Meltokio theater lately. Showing off my talents—my spectacular singing voice. Displaying my prime face and physique to the adoring public."

"Oh gods…" Sheena buried her face in her hands. "Just watch the pot. It's gonna boil over."

"Shit," Zelos muttered, abandoning his hideous daydream for the more hideous reality of their rapidly spoiling dinner. He fanned the pot, desperately trying to keep the foam inside.

Lloyd eyed the man, his pale, strangely immaculate face, his bright eyes. He imagined this man reciting lines to Anna, twirling onstage like a freakish debutant. He imagined him being showered with roses and escorted back to his lodging every night by a burly man, pulling adoring suitors off him one by one. He couldn't help but smile. "I don't think you'll make it in the world of theater," Lloyd told him.

"And why would you say that?" Zelos asked, removing the pot from the stove and stirring it mercilessly.

"It's hard work, and you don't get paid anything."

Zelos shook his head, dishing out their meager dinners. "Oh, little bumpkin, you don't know shit. I don't need to earn anything. I'm already filthy rich."

"But mostly filthy," Sheena put in, after which Zelos—wholly accidentally, he insisted—dropped her meal in the sand.

A few hours later, when Lloyd successfully managed to shackle Zelos and Sheena to opposite sides of the hovercraft, he wandered out of their earshot, to where Raine sat against the small limestone cliffs. She stared into the distance, sipping from her steaming mug.

"It gets cold out here at night," she said. He sat beside her, and she handed him his own mug. He could smell the whisky from a few feet away.

"Have you put the children to bed?" Raine asked him.

He glanced back at the hovercraft. "As best I could. I'll keep an eye on them tonight, though. Make sure they don't go anywhere."

"Good. I've been craving some good sleep." She took a swig and stared out into white sands shining in the light of the full moon. "I love how soundless it is out here. Like a winter night. If you unfocused your eyes, the sand almost looks like snow."

"I've never seen snow," Lloyd said. He wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. At least, if he'd seen it, he couldn't remember it.

"Snow's not bad. It's better than the rain."

Lloyd chuckled, sipping at the edge of his mug. "Raine, who hates the rain. Sounds like a song waiting to be written."

She smiled. Her skin and hair seemed to glow in the pale light, and Lloyd had to stop himself from reaching out and touching her, just to make sure she was real and not some sort of glowing specter. As instantly as it came, her smile disappeared, and her face seemed to darken.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Come on. You're not frowning at nothing."

She lowered her eyes into her cup. "Every time I visit a new place, I can't help myself from thinking that my little brother might've liked it." She sighed, took a sip. "There was just so much he didn't get to see. He could've lived for thousands of years. He didn't make it to ten. What a terrible hand to be dealt."

Lloyd bit his lip, looking into his own mug. "What was he like?"

"He was… a terror, really. He was incredibly intelligent, but there was so much he didn't understand. He didn't know why we had to move from place to place, he didn't know why he wasn't allowed to talk to other half-elves, he didn't get why we didn't have parents. I think he might've understood to some degree, but it was so hard to tell with him. I think… he had a mind that had long outgrown his spirit. He was a brilliant adult stuck in a child's body, with a child's disposition. He was so smart, he was bored all the time. He had such talent for elemental magic, not a day when by when he didn't try to set something aflame."

"He sounds like a handful."

"Oh, he was. There were moments when I—gods, I just wanted to strangle him. There were moments when I _knew_ it was for the better if I did. He was so smart, but he would do such stupid things—he went around bragging about being a half-elf once, to the other children. I was so mad I could've killed him. But I didn't, miraculously." She made a fist and rested it against her forehead, as if even now her little brother succeeded in frustrating her. "He did all sorts of things that endangered us. Gods knew how I kept him in check, spewing flames out of his fingertips whenever he got the chance. I don't know how someone was able to sneak up and attack him without him setting the whole place on fire." She sighed. "Well, magic takes concentration—it's hard to concentrate in situations like that."

Lloyd bit his lip, thinking of a good direction in which to steer the conversation. "Can you still do magic? I mean… if you're out of practice."

"Oh, I'm sure I can. But spell casting depends on willingness." She hugged her knees. "And I haven't the heart to try it. I was a useless hack for a healer. I'm a much better engineer, to be honest. Not to mention a sharpshooter." She laughed a little. "If you had told me years ago I'd end up a soldier, I would've taken offense. I wouldn't even have laughed, I would've found it so appalling."

"Yeah, well, I think that's just what happens. We end up in a place we never thought we'd be."

"Don't we, though? I wonder what past Lloyd would say if he saw you now, fraternizing with the enemy?"

"To be honest he'd probably try to beat me up. And it would be understandable. But I still wouldn't let him win. I'm stronger now, and I even though I don't know if what I'm doing is right, I know it's better than doing nothing at all."

"Do you think past Lloyd would understand that?"

"No. I don't think he would. But I'm going to make sure future Lloyd does."

"Well, age and experience give us all a begrudging appreciation for nuance." She finished her drink and lay the cup at her feet. "You're wiser than you think."

Lloyd blushed, working on his own drink. "Nah, not really."

Raine stood, stretching. "Learn to take a compliment, Lloyd. Are you going to keep an eye on the two nuisances over there?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I think I need a good long sleep." Before she crawled into her tent, she turned around and gave him a smile that lit up in the moonlight. "Goodnight, Lloyd."

"Night."

He sat silently for the better part of an hour, making sure she passed out before he tried anything. When he was reasonably sure she had fallen asleep, he pulled himself out of the sand and walked over to the hovercraft. He looked at the sleeping face of Sheena, then Zelos, and decided that the two were sufficiently conked out. No one would hear him.

He glanced up at the moon, gauging the time by its position in the star-filled sky. By its location and the current season, he knew he'd have enough time to make it to Triet and back before morning, if he ran. He took a small flagon of water, his knives, and donned a light, standard-issue helmet to hide his face. He would be better off if no one saw him wandering around Triet months after he'd disappeared with no explanation.

_Sorry, Raine_. He knew she wouldn't appreciate his wandering, but he knew it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission—especially with a woman as stringent, yet strangely humane, as Lieutenant Sage. He oriented himself toward Triet, made sure there were no signs of his companions waking up anytime soon, and dashed off into the desert.


	42. Homesickness

The sight of Triet—white buildings glowing under the full moon, street torches burning, stars glinting on the calm waters of the oasis—almost overwhelmed Lloyd. He had to force himself not to fall to his knees in the empty. It took great control not to or jump into the familiar waters of the glass-like oasis. He almost went back to where he was sure his old tent was still standing, patchy sides swaying in the gentle, chilly wind.

_I__'__m home, holy Martel, I__'__m home_, he thought to himself. The smell of spices, palms, of dry, crisp air tickled his nose. He didn't know why, after all this time, it was now that he felt sick with longing. It appeared his homesickness reached its peak only when he had returned to it. Perhaps it was because he knew he'd have to leave it again.

He crept past the silent market, past the darkened inn, and arrived at Barra's front door without incident. It seemed nobody was out tonight—sometimes there were a few drunkards or partygoers wandering through the streets late in the evening, coming to or from a friend's house, or looking for sleep and solace in a smoke den.

Lloyd took a deep breath, reached out his hand, then reconsidered knocking. He found the door locked, so he slipped to the side of the little house, looking up to the open second-story window. His eyes followed possible paths up to it, and decided the best way up would be to scramble up the lean-to shed and make a jump for it.

Halfway up the side of the building, Lloyd realized it was easier than he had anticipated. He figured he had his mother's exsphere to thank for that—while an avid tree-climber, he wouldn't have even considered attempting an ascent this risky in the past.

_What kind of Trieti thief am I, if I can__'__t even scale a building?_ he thought. With an ease that surprised even him, he grappled up the side of the wall and pulled himself silently through the window. His breath came deep and steady, and his exsphere pulsated and flickered with the effort. He slipped to Barra's bedside, and could make out the large figure of the sleeping man. As usual, Barra was snoring loudly. Lloyd was relieved that some things had stayed the same while he'd been away.

"Barra," he hissed, and the man bolted upright. His dark eyes settled on Lloyd, and he reached to his bedside with uncanny speed. Lloyd backed up to the wall when Barra sprang up, sword in hand, blade shining in the moonlight. He could see the man squinting in the dim glow, trying to make him out. "Barra, it's just me." He removed his helmet before the man could cut him down.

"Gods above, it is you," Barra said, slipping the sword back into its scabbard and placing it by the bedside. He reached out toward Lloyd with open arms.

"You sleep with a scimitar now?" Lloyd asked, embracing him.

"Dangerous times, Lloyd. You might not know what's going on, since you've been gone for so long." Barra held Lloyd's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Where's Anna?"

"That's a long story," Lloyd sighed. "She's all right." He didn't finish as he probably should've: with _maybe_.

"What… how… oh, to hell with it. Come downstairs for tea."

"I'd love to," Lloyd answered, smiling. "But I can't stay long. Just one cup of the spicy stuff."

"Absolutely." Barra led Lloyd down the rickety stairs, shaking his head. "It's been so long. I thought I'd never see you again. And…" When Barra lit a torch and saw Lloyd in his Desian uniform, his face paled. "What the hell are you doing wearing one of those?"

"I'm… I've gotten mixed up in some weird business. Long story short, I'm gonna take the Desians down from the inside. That's why I need this."

Barra gave him an incredulous look. But he could probably come up with no other reason for a human to don the Desian uniform. "Lloyd… I know you don't like listening to me, but… don't. Don't do this." Barra took out a pot and started the water boiling. "You've seen the kinda wars that are goin' on. Between Desians. They're killin' each other in the desert now. It's dangerous out there. We even have a curfew now and everything. If any of the townspeople caught you out at night, you'd be in for it. Especially dressed as you are."

"I'll be fine, Barra. I've been fine so far."

"These Desian fights, they've got nothin' to do with you, I hope." Lloyd shrugged, and Barra shook his head, sighing. He set the tea to steep and sat across from Lloyd, badgering him with a look. "Come home, Lloyd. Just come back. Let the others do the fightin'. You're not meant for it. Besides, I'm all alone now. This town is lonely without you and your mother."

"What about Ezra, how's he doing?"

Barra lowered his eyes as he poured the tea. "He's gone."

Lloyd's stomach twisted. "Dead? Ezra's dead?"

"No… maybe. I don't know. He's just gone. He disappeared as suddenly as you did. I didn't even know he left until his little brother showed up at my door one morning, asking me if I knew where he was. I said I didn't and sent the kid away, and that afternoon his sister shows up, asking the same thing. All of his siblings linin' up like ducks at my door, asking for their big brother, and all I could do was tell them I didn't know."

"He didn't leave because of me, did he? He didn't want to come find me or anything?"

Barra shrugged before lifting the cup to his lips. "I don't know. He seemed pretty unhappy, for the past couple of months. He just… left. He might be anywhere. He didn't leave a note."

"Well, he can't write."

Barra hung his head. "His family's distraught. I've been helping them financially recently, since Ezra was their main breadwinner, but gods above… I don't know if he just couldn't take care of that gaggle of little siblings anymore. Wouldn't blame him if that's why he left. But still… to just take off and abandon your family like that…"

Guilt swelled in Lloyd, tightening his muscles. "Barra… I'm sorry we had to leave all of a sudden. I swear it wasn't planned. Something came up."

"Something? Did it have to do with the money you got? That's what I figured."

"No. It was…" Lloyd stared at his hands. "My father showed up all of a sudden. And we had to get out of there."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Barra growled, fists clenched on the table. "I woulda destroyed him. You don't ever, _ever_ have to worry about that with me around, you get it?" His grimace softened, his hands relaxed. "Why did you just leave? Without even tellin' me? I understand if you don't want him in your life anymore—hell, I had a bastard of a father myself—but you don't need to solve all your family problems alone. I hoped you'd come to me first, at least let me know what was goin' on."

Barra's hurt look shook Lloyd to the core. He swallowed a lump in his throat, clenched his jaw and tried to keep his eyes from tearing up. "I'm so sorry, Barra. It wasn't… it wasn't something we could help. My father… he's involved in some dangerous stuff. You were probably better off not being dragged into it."

"Gods, Lloyd, I don't _care_ about that. I coulda helped you. I coulda helped your mother."

"I know you could've," Lloyd lied. "I'm sorry."

"Well… I guess there ain't much I can do about it now," Barra sighed, finishing his glass in one inured gulp. "As soon as I heard what happened I ran to your tent—just to find it in ruins and you nowhere to be found. So I saved your things. They're in the spare room. Except…"

"Except the money, I know. Thank you, Barra."

"How do you know? The money just disappeared one day. I thought thieves took it."

Lloyd bit his lip. "Do you have my oud?"

"Yeah. I have it."

Lloyd's heart lightened a little. He finished his tea and stood up, Barra following.

"I don't know what you'd need that thing for… unless you're plannin' on staying here." His voice rose hopefully for a moment.

"No. I can't. I still have plenty to do. I just wanted to tell you I'm all right. You shouldn't worry about me."

"I'm _going_ to, Lloyd." Barra led him to the spare room and lit the small lamp. "It's not something I can control."

"I know." Lloyd walked across the room and bent down to grip the neck of his oud. He picked it up—it seemed strangely light—and strummed a few strings. He didn't find it surprising it was out of tune, having sat in Barra's spare room for so long.

"Lloyd… please. Don't do this. Just stay here. Bring your mother back and stay with me."

"I want to. There's nothing I want more. But I can't. _El__á_ needs me right now."

"She's not in trouble, is she?" He gave Barra a sad look that made him clench his fists at his sides. "Desians?" Lloyd nodded. "Shit, boy. Let me come with you, then. We'll help her together."

Wouldn't that be interesting? Dragging Barra back to camp, introducing him to Raine, insisting he come along. Lloyd knew how that would work out. "Sorry, Barra. I can't let you. It's kind of a tricky operation. Infiltration, disguise and all that." He smiled. "Besides, you wouldn't fit in a Desian uniform."

Barra evidently could not force himself to smile back. He only reached out and clasped Lloyd, pulling him close. "Don't you _dare_ die out there. You come back, and you bring Anna home safe. Promise me."

"I promise."

Barra mussed his hair. "Gods, you've grown so much since I last saw you."

"Nah, same height as always."

"That's not what I mean, you little smart-ass."

Lloyd smiled, then stared at his feet for a moment, heart sinking. "Stay safe, Barra. Don't do anything stupid."

"I could ask the same of you, boy. Just remember, I'll be here, waiting to smack you for doing anything too dumb."

"I will." Lloyd slung his oud over his back and donned his helmet. "Thanks, Barra. For everything."

Barra rubbed his eyes, presumably to get out any moisture before it precipitated down his cheeks. "All right. Go. But be stealthy about it. If anyone catches a Desian sneakin' out of my house at this hour, they'll burn me alive."

"I'll be careful."

Barra embraced him one last time, before he blew out the lamp and silently opened the front door. Lloyd didn't look back as he slipped out into the quiet street, trotting soundlessly away from Barra's house. When he was sure he was far enough away to not implicate the man in any treasonous activities, he stopped to stare at the sky for a moment.

_I will come back here,_ he thought to himself. _I will find my mother and bring her back here. We__'__ll be happy then. Everything will go back to the way it was. I can watch the stars with her. I can__—_

He found his thoughts interrupted when a shuffling at his feet made him step back. He almost drew his knives, until he saw his attacker was none other than the old, scarred white tom so familiar to the residents of Triet. Lloyd couldn't help but bend down to scratch the elderly feline behind the ear.

When he did, the cat dropped a small, dark bundle of feathers at Lloyd's feet and mewled proudly. Lloyd turned the tiny thing over to see the fresh corpse of a common songbird. He sighed, scratching the cat's chin while stealing the bird's body out from under him. The cat, far from offended, followed Lloyd as he made his way to the nearest palm tree, under which lay a small patch of dirt, moistened by the oasis' waters. He drew a knife and scooped some earth away, purring cat rubbing against his bent legs.

When he dropped the bird inside the tiny grave and covered it up, the cat had already wandered away, disinterested. He stood, looking up at the sky, wondering if he'd dawdled for too long. It was still a few hours before sunrise. He could make it back, if he sprinted.

So he quietly made his way to the edge of the town, passed through the front gates, and ran.

* * *

When he arrived back to their camp, the sky was already lightening with pre-dawn blue. He bent, panting, before he set down his oud in the back of the hovercraft and covered it. He wandered around the side of the vehicle, checking to make sure Sheena hadn't escaped in the night. When he found her sleeping soundly, he sighed, and walked over to the other side, where his relief immediately gave way to panic.

Where he had left the Chosen sleeping last night was nothing but empty air and a small depression in the sand. Lloyd bit his lip, trying to decide what to do. Maybe he could solve this problem by himself, without resorting to deferring to Raine. She would be furious with him if she found out… gods, he would have to do this without her knowing.

He knew he couldn't take the hovercraft, but if Zelos was on foot, he couldn't have gotten far anyway. Lloyd was only gone for a few hours. He bent down in the sand where the Chosen had slept, and made out footsteps leading away from the camp and into the wilderness. Lloyd breathed a small sigh of relief. If Zelos was planning to go solicit the Renegades' help, he was going in the completely wrong direction.

Lloyd followed his prints, doubling back where it was clear Zelos was merely wandering in circles, possibly looking for a landmark to follow. His assessment of the situation grew steadily less dire with each passing moment. Zelos did not know the desert like he did. He would not get far at all.

Lloyd found the man in question standing atop the crest of a white dune, watching the eastern sky. When Lloyd rushed up to him, knives drawn, he turned around and put his miraculously unbound hands in the air.

"Yo, Lloyd," he said. He seemed a little too unsurprised to see Lloyd here, foiling his plans for escape.

"Get back to camp."

"I was just heading back there. Got a little lost. Heh." He shrugged. "Just not used to such a barren landscape, you know."

"Yeah, right." Lloyd prodded him, and they started walking back toward the hovercraft, Zelos a little too willing to comply. "You didn't think you'd survive in the desert, did you?"

"Survive? I wasn't going far. I just needed to take a piss is all. Nature calls."

"Bullshit." Lloyd looked Zelos over, his slight smile, his one eyelid that drooped a little in an infuriatingly nonchalant way. "You know the Renegade base is in the opposite direction."

"Why should I care? I'm not going there. Just out here to pee. Not that suspicious."

"You were wandering pretty far for just that. And you managed to get out of your constraints."

"Hey, have you ever tried pissing with no hands? Can't exactly undo my zipper with my teeth, you know."

Lloyd groaned. "Just keep walking. And no mentioning this, unless you want Raine to blow your brains out."

"Oh, she wouldn't do that."

"Fine, then. Blow your balls off."

"Now, that, I wouldn't mind, if you get my drift."

Lloyd prodded him a little harder, turning red. "Shut up and keep walking."

Zelos glanced over his shoulder at Lloyd, sneering. "Oh, hit a soft spot, did I? Got the hots for authority? Can't say it's a bad dynamic—you know what they say about half-breeds in bed."

"Shut the hell up," Lloyd growled, twisting the knife in his hand and thrusting the hilt into Zelos' ribs. The man tripped forward, winded.

"Gods, okay, I get your point. I won't mention it to her."

Lloyd prodded Zelos in silence, wishing that they could just get back to camp before the sun rose. The sky was rapidly brightening, and he didn't know if he'd manage to get back before Raine woke up and found them missing.

"Hey, I just wanted to apologize," Zelos said, out of the blue.

"For what?" Lloyd wondered if he was going to retract his inappropriate comments, but he figured it might be too much to ask for.

"For Sheena. I didn't give the order, of course, but it still sucks about your Chosen. You understand, don't you, though? Why Tethe'alla had to do it. We don't want to end up a wasteland like this."

"Wasteland?"

"You know, low mana supply. Half-elves everywhere—_running_ the place, damn it. Must be difficult, especially on the collective ego. But honestly, we half expected Sylvarant to send their own assassin to take me out. We thought this was a mutual understanding. A fair competition."

"Well, it's not. Sylvaranti people don't even know about Tethe'alla. And even if we did, we don't have the resources to send an assassin over there."

"But you know, if it's any consolation, your Chosen was going to die anyway. It was a mercy, at that point."

"What the hell do you know about it?" Lloyd kicked him forward across the sand, toward the hovercraft. The camp came into view in the early light, and he could not wait to hand Zelos back over to his babysitter so he wouldn't have to endure this little chat.

"Hey, man," Zelos said. "Don't think just 'cause I'm still alive it doesn't mean I've had my fair share of scares. It's a hard life, you know. Being the Chosen. If I could I would change it. It's not much fun, knowing that the best thing you can do in life is die in the proper fashion."

"Well, you won't need to, if we get rid of Cruxis. Then you'll be free. So don't screw this up."

"Oh, I won't." When they got to the hovercraft, Zelos leaned against it, crossing his feet. "But it surprises me how confident you are. I'm not sure you measly lot can take down Cruxis at all. But I suppose I'm gonna have to trust you, if I want to live a full life."

"Yeah. So shut up and don't wander off again."

"Yessir." Zelos walked to the other side of the vehicle and kicked Sheena awake. "Rise and shine, beauty! It's another lovely day!"

* * *

"Lloyd, what the hell is that instrument doing in the back of the hovercraft?"

When Lloyd awoke, halfway through the day, he looked over at Raine in the driver's seat, scowling at him. As far as he knew, she hadn't seen it when they left. But he was prepared to give an explanation.

He groaned awake, looking behind him to see Zelos sitting with the oud over his lap, plucking uselessly at the strings. "Put that down," Lloyd told him, but he only grinned.

"You went to Triet last night," Raine sighed.

"Yeah. I did. Just to get some stuff, though. I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't do anything suspicious."

"You being in uniform is suspicious in itself! What if someone saw you? What if Pronyma's men or the Renegades followed you back?"

"They didn't. So it's all good."

"No, it's not _all good_. You cannot run off like that, do you hear me? It's dangerous, it's foolish, it's a risk to this whole operation."

Zelos and Sheena smirked in the back, seemingly content to listen to Lloyd get told.

"Right, sorry. It won't happen again."

"And throw out that goddamn lute."

"No, wait! Don't!" He reached back and grabbed it from Zelos before he could toss it overboard. "And it's not a lute. It's an oud."

"Whatever the hell it is, it's useless to us."

"No, it's not," Lloyd lay the instrument down at his feet. It was all he could offer. He had no good reason why the thing was not dead weight. He just had to bring it with him—there was no other option.

"We'll deal with it later," Raine growled. "Right now, it's all we can do to get through this desert safely."

A few clouds of dust rose in the distance, the distant sound of gunfire briefly punctuated the monotonous buzz of the hovercraft's engine. The radio spewed out numbers, locations of skirmishes, weather reports and casualties. There was none of the lighthearted banter Lloyd had witnessed the first time he'd gotten one of the devices to work.

According to the radio, things were looking dire for the Renegades. Their desert craft were dropping like flies, their soldiers slaughtered daily. Each battle spelled a loss, but they kept coming, kept deploying units, as reconnaissance or decoys or ambushes. Occasionally they would announce that they'd taken down a Desian craft or two, but that report came rarely.

"So, Yuan's fighting Pronyma here," Lloyd said.

"And a few of Forcystus' detachments, but not many. Pronyma is mowing down any Desian-like activities. She probably knows we're here, and is trying to smoke us out by simply wrecking everything she sees." Raine changed her direction slightly to avoid an impending battle. "Subtlety is not her strong point."

"I guess not." Lloyd did not mention what Barra had said, about the atmosphere of conflict. But it didn't surprise him to learn that the Cardinals did not hesitate to wage all out war on one another. He wondered what the big cheese up in the sky would think of all this. He also wondered whose side his father was on, if any. Or if his mother was safe, or if Kvar's ranch had already been invaded and destroyed by Magnius, Pronyma or Yuan. There was a list of growing possibilities in Lloyd's head, none of which were very pretty.

Raine drove them around the action, into the shadows of the peaks. The mountains rose up beside them, barren except for a slight greenish-blue hue.

"What are those growing up there?" Sheena asked, pointing to the colored slopes.

"Poppies," Lloyd answered. "They refine them in town."

"All right, we definitely need to come here and visit after this is all done," Zelos said, leaning back. "I haven't had me a good opioid in weeks. Months, maybe."

"Save it for later," Raine growled, pulling the hovercraft into the crevice between two mountains. "Right now we need to get through here and to the other side."

"Are we not going through Izoold?" Lloyd asked. "That's way south of here."

"No, we're not. You don't think that there are really any ships going to Palmacosta now, do you? Not with the shape it's in."

"I guess not."

Raine slowed the hovercraft, coming to a stop before a small corridor of limestone. She fiddled with the radio, then her own communicator, muttering into it and waiting for a reply. When they had sat idle in the shadows of the mountains for what seemed like the better part of an hour, Raine snapped her communicator off and slipped out of the hovercraft.

"We can't fit this thing through the canyon here," she said. "We'll have to walk. But it's not far to the sea. From there, we're getting a ride from some of Rodyle's men. It's only a day trip, though. We'll be on land again before you know it. We're just going to a nearby peninsula, so from there, we walk south to Palmacosta." She reached into the back of the hovercraft and pulled out her pack. She gave Lloyd a disappointed look when she saw him carefully lift out his oud. "I better not regret letting you keep that."

"You won't," he replied. He slung it over his shoulder as Zelos and Sheena slid down the hovercraft's sides and landed on the sandy ground. He followed them into the crack in the mountain, resisting the temptation to strum a song or two on the dusty, untuned old thing. He kept silent, though, knowing Raine would scold him if he made too much noise. So he just followed in their footsteps, wondering what kind of state Palmacosta was in. "What's Magnius like?" he asked. "He never came to the Iselia ranch."

"It was probably better that he didn't. He has a reputation for leaving chaos in his wake." Raine sighed, pulling the straps of her pack tighter to her shoulders. "You'll see when you get there. We're supposed to try to talk to him first. See if he'll work with us."

"And if not?"

"If not, I suppose we'll have to destroy him. Him and all subordinates loyal to him."

"Sounds easy enough," Zelos put in.

"It will be manageable, if we plan accordingly."

"Plan what?"

Raine glanced over her shoulder at him with a wicked smirk, but said nothing. She just readjusted her pack and marched into the orange-lit canyon.


	43. Lessons in Arts and Crafts

When Lloyd saw the distant smoke rising from the grey walls of Palmacosta, he wondered if any portion of it remained standing, or salvageable. It looked like Magnius had already burned at least part of it to the ground.

Although they approached the city steadily, Raine did not lead them straight into Palmacosta. When the road forked, she headed east, into the sparse birch forests that dotted the fields. Lloyd followed closely in her footsteps, eyes scanning the branches. He saw a few birds he recognized, tried pointing them out to her, but she seemed disinterested. She kept looking down at her communicator, consulting her compass, muttering to herself.

When she came to a clearing, glowing gold as the sun set through distant smoke, she stopped. "Our encampment should be around here," she said, surveying the landscape. "Unless I'm sorely mistaken. Or else it's a trap."

Lloyd's hands instinctively wandered to his knives. He rested his fingers around one hilt, searching for any sign of movement. All was silent for a long, agonizing second, and then he spied a bush move, just slightly. Before he could draw his knife and attack, he recognized the long barrel of a rifle protruding from the foliage.

Raine lifted her hands. "Lieutenant Sage, Assistant Chief Engineer," she called out. "Forcystus sent me."

A head poked out from behind the bush, and Lloyd recognized the bearded face of the Desian captain that had led their squad into Palmacosta to retrieve his exsphere.

"Well met, Lieutenant!" the Captain called, standing. He looked over her strange cabal, gaze hesitating on Zelos and Sheena. "You seem to be keeping odd company."

Raine sighed. "Forcystus condones it. _He__'__s_ fine," she nodded toward Lloyd. "He knows how to make himself useful. The same cannot be said of these other two."

"A pity," the Captain crossed his large arms in a way that reminded Lloyd a little too much of Barra. His heart pinched inside him when he thought of the man, but he forced himself to focus on simply following the Captain back to their encampment.

"How are negotiations faring?" Raine asked.

"I don't think you can call them negotiations." When they arrived at the small camp, the Captain seated himself on a stump by one of the fires, motioning for Raine to sit across from him. "We mostly go up to the gates, ask Magnius if he wants to talk, and his little bastards throw bricks at us."

"How many are still loyal to him?" Raine asked. Lloyd sat next to her, and Zelos and Sheena took their places beside him, silent.

"Gah, most of 'em. They're a bunch of psychos, that lot. They hit the jackpot. Magnius stormed into the city and just took over. Killed the governor-general and made himself boss. His cronies love him—they raid the pubs and loot the houses, wander drunk from dawn till dusk, wreaking havoc."

"How are the townspeople doing?" Lloyd interrupted. "Are they all right?"

"Ah, not most of 'em. He killed a good percentage of the population when he first came in. They tried their best to resist him. Funny how they thought they could keep him out. I guess they never had to deal with him when he didn't have some quota keeping him in check. Now he's gone apeshit. Totally wild. As far as I hear they're raping and pillaging and terrorizing the entire town."

Lloyd clenched his fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm. "What are we gonna do about it?"

"Nothing, right now. We can just wait until his supplies of booze run dry, and he suddenly realizes he needs to negotiate with us."

Lloyd glared incredulously at the Captain. "Just like that? They've destroyed Palmacosta and you're just gonna wait around for them to sober up so you can talk to them?"

"Lloyd, watch yourself," Raine said, pinching his arm.

"Nah, can't blame him. Even swine care for their own kind."

Lloyd's hand settled on his weapon, but someone grabbed his wrist and held on tightly, keeping his knife in place. He glanced over to see Zelos shake his head, smiling slightly. Lloyd grit his teeth. He didn't exactly appreciate an impetuous fool like Zelos having to keep him in check, but he let go of his knife. Instead he stared into the fire, listening to Raine and the Captain discuss the matters at hand. They spoke of strategy, casualties and slaughter so coldly he had to get up and walk into the darkness at the edge of camp.

"Where are you going?" Sheena called after him.

"To take a piss," he answered, before he disappeared into the shadows of the rustling trees. He walked until the din of camp faded to a distant murmur. The scrape of weapons being sharpened, the conversation of soldiers, and the crackling of the fires all evaporated into the air, leaving him alone with his oud and the nightingales. He sat himself down on a rock, pulled the instrument off his back and started to tune it.

He tightened the strings, hoping that he wouldn't break any. He supposed if Palmacosta was wrecked, he might be able to smash the window of that string shop downtown and take some replacements. He figured that Desians would have no need for instruments or their parts, so they would be his for the taking. Lloyd sighed, twisting the peg, strumming. The dead string came to life slowly, crawling up the scale with a sleepy reluctance. When he had all his strings tuned and in order, he plucked out an old Trieti lullaby. His heart wrung itself out in his chest, and he hung his head.

_El__á__, I__'__m sorry. I got distracted. I should be coming to get you, but I have other things to do first. _He fingered a trill. _I always hated Palmacosta. But still, I can__'__t just let Magnius torture all its people. You__'__ll understand, right?_ He was sure she would. After all, they owed the people of both worlds a few favors. The townsfolk of Iselia paid the price for their escape. Mizuho had paid for their acquisition of the Tethe'allan Chosen. Palmacosta paid the price for Lloyd helping Forcystus start an intra-Desian war. It was the least he could do.

But he didn't want to wait around for Magnius to run out of leisure activities. If Palmacosta was indeed suffering the way the Captain made it out to be, then plenty of people could be hurt or killed before negotiations even started. He strummed out a ballad, thoughts wandering to what he could possibly do. A single, lonely, weak little human. Even with his mother's exsphere on his side, he couldn't take out a whole army by himself.

"Psst! Lloyd."

He looked back toward camp to see the vague outline of Sheena, darkened against the backdrop of distant campfires. She snuck toward him like a shadow, and his stomach dropped. Her movements, her outline, her shining brown eyes, all reminded him of that day in Palmacosta when he had last seen Colette alive.

"What do you want?" he hissed. He slid off his rock and backed away, perhaps simply out of instinct.

"You've been gone a while. Lieutenant Sage told me to come get you." Her eyes darted across the wilderness. "Although, it seems like now might be a good time to make a break for it."

"And go where?" Lloyd asked. "The Renegades are back in the desert. You have no allies here, except us."

"Yeah, I know. I was talking about you."

"Huh?" Lloyd lowered his instrument to his side.

"Like you did in the desert. Running off back home. You should've stayed there, you know. It would've been a wise decision."

"I can't." He took a few steps toward camp, Sheena following closely. "I have no choice."

"Why do you say that?"

He shook his head. "I'm in too deep to back out now."

She sighed. "I feel you. Look, Lloyd, I want to see Cruxis dismantled as anyone else. It's because of their system that I had to walk down this path."

"You mean, becoming an assassin?" he asked.

She nodded. "I would've rather been strictly a summoner. But… it was the only way I knew how to save my world from destruction."

"Do you regret it? What you did?"

"No. I don't. What I regret is the circumstances that led to that decision. I still think it was the right thing to do. It was the only way to save my home. But with the system of the Chosen gone, no one else has to make that decision."

When they came within earshot of the camp, they fell silent. Raine and the Captain were still discussing the state of the nearby city, so Lloyd sat next to Zelos, who had apparently discovered the army's still-warm leftovers.

"Suppertime," he smiled, handing a generous helping of slop over to Lloyd. "You must be hungry, what with all that hiking into the wilderness you did just now."

Lloyd took the bowl from him, giving him an odious glare. He was readying a reply when Raine appeared behind him, all narrowed eyes and stern authority.

"You. In my tent. Now," was all she said, before turning and walking across the camp, toward one of the bigger setups. Lloyd glanced over his shoulder at her and stood, bowl of dinner still in hand.

"Go get her, tiger," Zelos winked, and Lloyd turned red. He ignored some of the stares and quiet jeers of the soldiers around him, and followed Raine into her tent. She zipped the flap shut behind them, and turned on the small lantern hanging from its highest rod. He followed her gaze to the low table running along the length of the tent and saw a smorgasbord of objects, some familiar and some unrecognizable. Metal casings, jars of oddly colored powder, a few tools, nuts and screws and bolts and wires.

"What is all this?" he asked.

"Tonight's work. We're going to make a few bombs."

Lloyd almost smiled. He wondered if she knew he was well-versed in the manufacture of homemade explosives. "Why did you ask me to help you? Don't you have trained guys to do it?"

"Yes, but I happen to be observant enough to recognize talent when I see it. Additionally, there is some possibility that some of these soldiers are not to be trusted. That's why only you, I, and the Captain know about this."

"You think some of these soldiers are spying for Magnius?" Lloyd asked.

"No, but there are a few that express sympathy for him. They're tired of fighting. They just want to relax, to get this all over with. Having an entire human city at your disposal seems like a good way to keep yourself safe and happy. Not to mention drunk."

Lloyd sat down at the bench and looked over the little trinkets. "So, we're gonna hide a few tricks up our sleeves, huh? I can do that." He reached over and turned a small vial of powder. He recognized it as the same stuff he'd bought off a shady seller in front of a smoke den a few years ago. "You have just about everything you could need."

"Then let's get to work."

It was almost a joyful endeavor. Lloyd felt like was back at home, in his tent or on the floor of the hovercraft, dashing together a clump of this, a sprinkling of that, screwing a metal shell into place. He twisted wires, pried metal, quieted his work when Raine shushed him. He poured two dense semiliquid substances into adjacent chambers in an egg-like shell. When Raine asked him what he was doing, sticking them together like that, he showed her how to make a smaller, more reliable explosive. He showed her how he made his own incendiary grenades, whispered stories to her about how the first time he'd used one was to see if he could light a palm tree on fire. He'd been eleven, and it hadn't turned out well.

"My mother was so mad at me, causing a ruckus like that."

"She was worried you'd burn yourself," Raine said. "You can't blame her."

"Nah, I think she was more worried that it would bring attention to us. She didn't mind me doing dangerous things, as long as they were normal human things. You know, things that wouldn't get the attention of any nearby Desians." He stuffed a fuse into one of his little creations and examined it in the dim light. "I think she was mostly afraid of them capturing us again."

Raine sighed. The slight sound of her whittling away at the edge of a plastic shard died away, and she placed it in the belly of one of her own small bombs. She impressed him with her meticulousness, her attention to detail. He winged this sort of thing more often than he cared to admit.

"I think we have enough," she said, after a few minutes. "We're not going to be able to take many with us if we want to keep them hidden from sight. Don't want Magnius' men guessing we have one up on them."

"Yeah, really." Lloyd himself was no stranger to the outstanding benefits of the element of surprise. It was the only way he'd ever won a fight with his father. It might be the only way he'd win a fight with Magnius. "So are we going to blow up the city wall with these?"

"We'll see," Raine replied. "I would love to avoid using them at all. The ideal situation is to simply talk with Magnius, but if it comes down to it, there's no harm in having a trick or two up our sleeves. Tomorrow morning the Captian will inform you of the plan. For now, the most important thing to do is rest."

"All right. Just let me finish this last one," Lloyd said.

Raine lay down on the floor of the tent. There was no room for a bedroll or cot, given the only viable space was occupied by a table, now filled with more than a half dozen tiny weapons. One bomb in particular, one that Raine had spent most of her time crafting, looked more like a computer chip than an explosive. He wondered exactly how much power a tiny thing like that could even hold.

"I have a proposal you might find uncomfortable," Raine said. Lloyd went cold, fingers still clutching the last piece of his current project. "I propose we utilize Sheena in this endeavor." Breath returned to Lloyd, but it was shallow, agitated. He wasn't sure how he felt about bringing the assassin into their Desian war, including her in the delicate operations of negotiation and, if it came down to it, battle. But he figured she had about as much place in this war as he, and he was already neck-deep in this mess. "We should, naturally, inform her of our new collection of weapons," she yawned, removing her gloves and folding her hands behind her head. "Given that she is a master of the arts exclusive to Mizuho, I believe her stealth will be a valuable asset. Not to mention her summoning ability."

"And you're sure you can rely on her?" Lloyd asked, finishing up his tiny device.

"Do you think I shouldn't?"

"No… I think she's…" Lloyd almost flinched to hear himself say it. "Trustworthy."

"Good. While you may not be the soundest judge of character, it does comfort me to hear that."

"Anytime," Lloyd mumbled, gluing the final piece into place.

By the time he blew out the lamp and found his own spot on the floor, Raine was snoring slightly. He slipped between her and the table, taking off his own gloves and laying them at his side. He wondered if Raine would be all right with him just passing out on her floor, or if she expected him to go find his own place to rest. She didn't seem to mind his presence all that much; she was already sound asleep.

So he curled on his side, folded his hands under his cheek, and stared at the side flap of the tent, thinking. He tried to recall what he had heard of Magnius at the ranch. Some of the other children mentioned him, a long time ago, but only in passing. They said he was brutal, merciless, but they had only heard these stories from other people. None of them had ever met the man.

And now Lloyd was going in their place. Maybe he'd be able to destroy Magnius for them. Maybe Magnius would come over to their side and Lloyd would be forced to work with him, at least until Cruxis fell. He shivered at the thought. He was already surrounded by too many Desians. One more Cardinal might be the straw that would break his back.

He felt a light pressure on his waist, and wondered if some small mammal had crawled in and settled on his side. When he glanced over at himself, though, he discovered it was Raine's limp arm, thrown over him in fidgety sleep. His heart skipped a beat, his blood went cold for a moment. He felt her steady, unconscious breath tickle the back of his neck, raising the tiny hairs there. He took a slow breath, unwilling to move her arm, unwilling to move himself.

He began to relax, to enjoy the sensation of Raine's limp arm hanging clumsily across him. Instead of throwing it off, he just closed his eyes, focusing on her breath, and his own, until he fell into heavy sleep.


	44. A City in Ruin

The thick, tall walls of Palmacosta stood intact for the most part. At the top of each crumbling battlement rose a few thin plumes of smoke, curling up into the cloudy sky. Silhouettes of soldiers hovered over them in the morning light, sometimes calling down to the faction below, sometimes throwing rocks or empty bottles. Just looking at the way they stumbled across the perimeter, it seemed a miracle some of them didn't come tumbling off the wall in a drunken stupor.

"We could just wait around for all his soldiers to flatten themselves falling off the wall," the Captain said. "But that might take a while."

"I'm starting to suspect that having Magnius on our side will be more of a burden than anything," Raine sighed. She readjusted her helmet and walked past the Captain, Lloyd in tow. Sheena followed closely behind—Zelos, thank all the gods, had been convinced to stay behind in camp for his own safety. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, but Forcystus could not spare any men to come pick him up.

Raine stepped forward, toward the city's splintered gate, refortified with piles of stone and a misshapen portcullis. On the ramparts, on either side of the gate, slouching like a couple of apes, stood what Lloyd assumed to be the guardsmen. They surveyed the small unit with little surprise.

"Oi, coming back for more, are you?" one laughed, raising his rifle and discharging it into the forest behind them. Lloyd was not sure if he had meant to miss or not.

"We've come to speak with Magnius," Raine said.

"We told you already, he's not interested."

Raine removed her helmet as the soldier again raised his rifle. "I am Lieutenant Raine Sage, fourth division, chief assistant engineer on the mana cannon project. Magnius might want to have a word or two with me before we decide to blast him into space."

One of the men laughed, the other clutched at his helmet, trying to examine her through its grating. "Whoa, hold up. Nah, put your gun down," he shouted to his partner, who was aiming clumsily toward Raine. "She's the one who basically built the mana reactor."

"No, she's not. She's just tryin' to sucker us into letting her in."

"Whether or not you believe me is irrelevant," Raine called. "What Magnius thinks is more important, is it not? Let me speak with him."

"Don't let her in," said one.

"You can come in, if you come alone," said the other.

"I'm disappointed you take me for a fool," Raine replied.

"Fine, take someone in with you. But just one."

Raine sighed and turned her back on the men. She started to walk away from the gates and back into the woods when they called after her. "Fine! Just not all of them! Magnius'll have our asses!"

Lloyd caught a glimpse of her smiling before she motioned for him to follow her. She nodded to Sheena, the Captain, and a few others, leaving the large remainder of the faction some distance away from the gates. She leaned down to one of the commanding officers. "If I don't come back within forty-eight hours, contact Forcystus. He will have to take care of this mess himself." She turned, but stopped herself. "If anything happens—if Magnius attacks you, or if something comes up that you don't expect, run. No heroics from you. Keep yourselves alive while we're away."

As she walked toward the gates, she removed her rifle from her back, lay it down on the scorched grass at her feet and raised her hands. "We have no other firearms," she said.

"Ah, take your weapons in with you, for all we care," one of the Desians called back. "We see you reaching for _anything_ and we're gonna blow your brains out."

"Fair enough," Raine almost smiled as the gate creaked open, screaming on its misshapen hinges like a pained animal. Lloyd almost felt sorry for the machine. As he slinked under the shadows of the gates, he noticed the two guards watching him suspiciously, if not a little amusedly. He wondered if they were confident enough to fail to search him. He carried two of his tiny creations in his boots, hidden safely under the folds of Desian-made leather.

As he got further into the city, he began to wonder if the lack of security was a reflection in Magnius' confidence in his own prowess, or if all of his henchmen were merely too inebriated to bring themselves to care. It was a relatively even toss-up between the two. A few Desians walked here and there, drunk or sober, harassing what few civilians dared to walk the streets, or keeping to themselves. Lloyd spied a couple of Desian women in the town square, playing cards, sporting jewelry they no doubt pilfered from the nearest wealthy households.

Raine moved toward the governor-general's old mansion with a self-assurance that surprised even Lloyd. She and the Captain did not seem fazed at this whole affair, but Lloyd spied Sheena twisting one of those mysterious cards around in her fingers as she walked. He could tell she was as uncomfortable in a Desian uniform as he was. But Raine had been right—you did eventually get used to it.

Raine let the Captain take the lead, and fell back in step with Lloyd and Sheena. "This might get a little messy," she whispered. "But I expect both of you to obey my orders, no matter what. If I don't tell you to do anything, _don__'__t do anything. _For the sake of all the gods, wait for any signals. The Captain has deferred command of you to me, so I call the shots here, do you understand?"

Sheena nodded nervously, but Lloyd had grown used to the usual dire seriousness of her pep talks.

"Sheena, I am trusting you to be a stellar representative of your hometown and its customs of furtiveness. Do not fail me."

Sheena visibly swallowed the lump in her throat, but kept in step as they walked up to what used to be the governor-general's mansion. It looked like an old ruin now, with its facade scorched, its windows broken, its doors fortified with metal planks. Two human children fought over a corn husk in the shadow of the building, until a woman dressed in rags came to drag them out of the way of the passing Desians. She glanced up at them, head bandaged, bruised eyes red and dry, before she carried the children away into the shadows of the ruined buildings. Lloyd hoped she had found a good hiding place. The brave humans who still wandered the streets of the town seemed either to be scavenging for discarded food or prostitutes willing to sell sex for safety.

Lloyd grimaced. The sooner they could oust Magnius from Palmacosta, the better. When he stood before the giant door to the governor-general's mansion, so familiar and yet so strange to him in its current state, he let a hand wander to his knife. Perhaps they could get the jump on Magnius and take him out before lunchtime.

Raine looked over at the Captain, then at Lloyd and the rest of her small detachment, and stepped up to the door. She knocked at it a few times with her gloved fist, before it opened slowly. She stepped forward into the dark foyer, a little too fearlessly for Lloyd's comfort, but he followed her, hand on his knife hilt.

In the center of the room, reclining on an upturned couch, sat Cardinal Magnius. He stood at their approach, hand wandering to the massive axe that leaned on an end table beside him. A few of his henchmen emerged from the shadows to stand beside him, curious at the formality of this visit.

"Well, well," Magnius smiled. "Some of my men told me Forcystus' engineer was coming. I didn't expect such a good lookin' lady."

Raine forced her most charming smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Magnius."

"Why are you here?" he asked. "We haven't gotten many visitors around here, besides the few traitors trying to take Palmacosta back from me."

"We're here because Forcystus wants to form an alliance. He and Rodyle are willing to share the mana cannon technology if you assist us in getting rid of Kvar and Pronyma."

"Rodyle?" Magnius laughed. "You're a moron of you think I'm gonna align myself with that shit-stain. Besides, what do I get out of it? Pronyma and Kvar are giving me no trouble." He sat back down on his chair, letting go of his axe hilt. The other men in the room seemed to relax as well. "They know I'm not a threat to them, at least not now. Whatever vain ideals all these Cardinals are fighting over is nothing to me. I have everything I could ever want, right here." He motioned. "Wine, food, friends, pleasure."

"You don't think that Cruxis will turn its eye on you? Punish you for defecting?"

"Ha, Cruxis doesn't give a shit! They don't care about human cities, or me. Hell, I wasn't even involved in the Angelus project. They don't care what happens to my ranch. As long as I'm out of their hair they're happy as clams. No, I'm staying here."

Raine smiled. "I thought you'd say that." Lloyd wondered if he should draw his weapon now, and surprise the huge red-dreaded bastard, or if he should wait for her orders to attack. When Raine stepped toward the Cardinal, hand outstretched, he narrowed his eyes. "And I'm relieved you did. Here are the blueprints for the cannon. I have brought the Angelus exsphere as well." Lloyd instinctively covered his hand, heart skipping a beat, but Magnius did not seem interested in him. He started to fidget, swallowing audibly, and Raine glanced at him over her shoulder until he quieted himself.

The Cardinal opened his palm and received the tiny chip, grinning. "Hah. You think I want this?"

"You're going to need it, when Forcystus decides to come after you. But he should already be weakened. Kvar and Pronyma are putting up quite the fight."

Magnius narrowed his scarred eyes at her, dark skin wrinkling. "Why would one of Forcystus' chief engineers bite the hand that feeds her?"

"Because," Raine crossed her arms, "I'm tired of this war. There's not much room for scientific development when all my time is occupied fighting skirmishes. All I want is for the infighting to stop."

"Knowledge for knowledge's sake, huh? Then what are you gonna do? Work for me?"

"If you'll allow it. If not, then I will find my own way."

"I should really just kill you right here. I have no need for engineers. I've no need for scientists."

"You will before these battles are over. All I ask is that you give me shelter. Keep me safe. All I want to do is live through the fighting."

Magnius stood, scowling. "I don't like people like you. Cowards who resort to trickery and shady dealmaking. If you're not tough enough to survive on your own, you don't deserve to." He towered over Raine, gray eyes boring into her, and Lloyd could not help but tighten his grip on his knife. Raine did not give him any sign or signal to attack, didn't panic, didn't back down. She stared into Magnius' face, unmoving, unshakable.

They stood with their gazes interlocked for far too long—the silence in the room deafened Lloyd. He wanted to stab Magnius while he had the chance, before the Cardinal swung his axe up and cleaved her in two, but her stern commands echoed in his head. He was almost as scared to disobey her as he was scared for her life.

Eventually Magnius broke into a smile. "Ha! For a stick-thin nerd, you got a lotta guts, staring me down. You just wanna live so you can do your tinkering, eh? Well, so be it. When the time comes I'm gonna work you like a slave, get it? You're gonna keep Palmacosta up and runnin' when the last remaining Cardinal comes down for us."

"Yessir," Raine said, relaxing visibly. Lloyd's hand again fell to his side, and he let out his bated breath.

"Ah, don't be so formal," Magnius said. "We're all comrades here." He looked her over, she stared back. "But you ain't gonna get a free stay. No such thing as a free lunch, girlie." He sauntered to the door of the governor-general's mansion, and creaked it open. "You gotta prove to me you're not gonna screw me over when the time comes. Go and kill your friends out on the other side of the wall."

Lloyd went cold. He didn't know if he'd be able to shoot down the line of loyal soldiers that sat and waited for Raine's return. He lowered his eyes, muttering her name. She looked over at him with such disappointment he reeled. He recalled her words to him as they walked into the city. He would have to trust her.

"Gladly," she said to Magnius. "Give me a rifle."

Magnius grinned, grabbed the nearest gun from one of his unsuspecting henchmen. He nearly ripped the rifle from the man's shoulder and thrust it toward Raine. Lloyd wished she would just turn the gun on him and shoot him point blank, but there were plenty of henchmen standing around, weapons ready, to take her down. She put the rifle over her shoulder,turned and made her way across the square. Lloyd followed her closely, in the huge shadow of Magnius and his numerous bodyguards. He figured if she turned her gun against Magnius now, there would be no way any of them would get out of the situation alive.

"What about your little cronies, girl?" he asked, elbowing Lloyd hard in the arm. "He's the one with the special rock? How'd you get him to join you?" Raine gave Magnius an uninterpretable look, and the Cardinal laughed. "Ah, feminine charms." His intense grey eyes wandered to Lloyd. "You're a little race traitor, keeping her company. But if you can keep up with half-elves, then I guess you have some merit."

Lloyd chose not to reply. The desperate looks Raine kept giving him while Magnius wasn't looking kept his mouth shut. He lowered his gaze and walked in line, falling into step with Sheena. She didn't seem too pleased about the whole ordeal either, but she was smart enough to keep silent. Raine had mentioned that the assassin would have great skills in silence and subterfuge.

When the group arrived again at the city gates, Raine climbed up the pile of scree that led up to the top of the wall. Magnius followed, perhaps preparing to shove her to her death should she prove dishonest. He crossed his arms and smiled as she made sure her gun was loaded.

"Take out the commander first," Magnius said.

Raine set the rifle to her shoulder and leaned over the battlements. She took a deep breath, sights wandering over the unsuspecting soldiers. Lloyd clenched his fists, bit his lip. Surely she would have some sort of plan, surely she wouldn't just open fire on her own men. She told him to trust her, so she must have some trick up her sleeve…

A single shot rent the air. One of the soldiers below her screamed as he fell. Blood sprayed from his shoulder, and he barely had time to clutch at it before Raine sent another through his arm. He stumbled backward, toward the trees, followed by his terrified comrades. They scattered like so many ants, rushing into the cover of forest, dragging the injured man behind them.

Magnius laughed, pleased with the spectacle. "Cowards! All filthy cowards!"

Raine reloaded, sent a few bullets screaming into the forest, dust puffing up at the soldiers' feet as they ran.

"They weren't expecting that, were they?" Magnius asked. Lloyd's stomach turned, his sight blurred a little. He wondered if Raine had really come over to Magnius' side, if she had been waiting for her chance to escape Forcystus, to live a life of ease as a tyrant in Palmacosta. Lloyd couldn't help but worry for her.

"Would you like me to chase after them?" she asked, swinging her rifle back to her side.

Magnius shook his head. "Buncha spineless bastards anyway. They're no threat."

Raine nodded. "That's why I don't think they're going to win this war."

"And you think I am?" Magnius chuckled.

"I don't think you're going to win. I think you're going to survive, which is better. When all the other Cardinals have driven each other into the ground, you'll be the only one left."

Magnius examined her, smiling slightly. Lloyd did not like the way his grin curled, the way he seemed to be taking her apart with his cold gray eyes. "You're a scientist, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Then you'll be pleased at this little experiment I have going." He started to make his way down off the battlements back into the town. "A nature reserve, if you will. A study in survival of the fittest." He motioned to two starving townsfolk who, seeing him approach, slithered back into the safety of the shadows. "See?" he laughed. "The natural order of things."

"What do you mean?" Raine asked. Lloyd was not sure if she was humoring the man or if she was genuinely curious—that thought alone scared him a little.

"The ranch wasn't my kind of place. The systematic murder—it's just not natural. There was never any chance that humans would fight back. They'd just go through the whole ordeal, weak and lifeless. There's no fun in that."

"So here, you at least compete with them on their own level," Raine said.

"Exactly. We've got a brilliant one over here!" he shouted to the town square, which quickly cleared of any people. "And we still come out on top. Proof enough we're meant to."

"Indeed," Raine said.

"Truly, this is how things are supposed to be," Magnius continued, loudly, boldly. "He who is strongest takes all. Isn't there some theory you eggheads like to talk about that basically says it's true?" He grabbed her shoulder. "So it would only make sense if I stole you from that pencil neck over there."

Lloyd drew his knife, heart dropping into his stomach. He stepped back, preparing to drive it into Magnius' arm, to cut off the hand that clutched at Raine's clothes. Magnius only laughed and let go, glancing over to Lloyd standing with his weapon ready. "You want to fight over her? Be my guest, little man. You'll regret it."

Raine gave Lloyd a stare that forced the knife back into its hilt. He didn't want her to think he didn't trust her to handle herself. Insulting Raine seemed more dangerous than taking on Magnius, and he knew he'd be no help to her if he were dead. But he couldn't stop the sick feeling from welling up in him when Magnius returned his hand to Raine's arm.

"Ha, best way to win a fight," the Cardinal laughed. "Before it starts." He led her off, toward the governor-general's mansion, Lloyd following closely in tow. He was so focused on Magnius' neck, so focused on imagining severing that thick spinal column right under his fat head, he didn't notice Sheena had slunk up beside him.

"You're not worried about her?" she whispered.

"Of course I am." He made sure none of Magnius' men could hear him before he continued. "But you remember what she said. I won't do anything until I need to. She knows what she's doing."

"I hope so," Sheena muttered.

By the time they arrived back at the mansion, Magnius had a full arm around Raine, dragging her around like a skinny sock puppet. She pushed away, smiling. "You need to learn how to wine and dine a woman," she said. "Let me freshen up. If you haven't noticed, I'm filthy."

"Of course you are." He laughed.

"And you should let me assess your stores," she insisted. "If you don't want to run out of wine soon, you'll let me take a look."

He smirked as she stealthily slid from his grip, past a pair of half-sober guards. She motioned for Sheena and Lloyd to follow her up the stairs. When they got to an empty, ransacked room, she threw herself on the nearest couch and heaved a sigh.

"Gods above," she said, wiping her forehead. "This is going to be difficult."

"Raine, don't do anything you're going to regret," Lloyd told her. "You already killed one of your own men, don't go too far just to please this guy."

"I didn't kill him. He'll be out for a few weeks, yes, but I just got his arm when I could've sunk one between his eyes."

"Still, don't do anything too dangerous."

She only smiled slyly. "Oh, you're in no position to tell me what to do. I'll probably have to keep Magnius happy if I want to keep either of you alive. And not just by keeping his town running." She sat up, frowning. "I think he's starting to realize drunken pillaging is not viable long-term." She lay back down. "I think he thinks he's going to need a civil engineer soon. Or maybe I'm giving him too much credit."

"Too much credit," Sheena said, removing her helmet.

"All right. Change of plans," Raine muttered. "I've sent the Captain off to see what he can learn about the state of Magnius' soldiers. Half of them are perpetually wasted, the other half may or may not be dissatisfied with their current circumstances. Perhaps they're afraid to rebel." She reached into her breast pocket and removed the tiny explosives she had hidden there. "Sheena. I trust you to place these where we've discussed. Under the cover of night, of course. Don't let me down."

Sheena nodded, taking the small devices from her. She set them down on the table and started removing f her Desian armor. "I'm going to need to be quiet—can't be clinking around in this damn thing," she said. "Turn around, Lloyd."

Lloyd obeyed, his eyes wandering back to Raine. "What are you going to do?"

"Oh, I'm going to keep Magnius as plastered as possible," she said. She smiled. "I'm sure I can drink him under the table." She pulled off her gloves and gauntlets and left them on the leg of the overturned end table.

"This isn't what we had planned," Lloyd said. "This is all different from what you told us this morning."

"Being able to improvise is a crucial part of success," Raine replied, as she unbuckled her breastplate.

"That's what my mother says, too."

"Listen to her. She knows what she's talking about."

Lloyd crossed his arms. "I don't like this."

"Like what?"

"You just waltzing up to Magnius and thinking you're gonna seduce him into submission. He's dangerous, Raine. You're going to get hurt."

Raine took off her greaves, smiling up at him. "Are you jealous, Lloyd?" He shut his mouth while she unbuckled her boots. "Don't worry about me. I'm in control here. I'll get Magnius just where we want him, the Captain and his men will quietly dispose of any troops that will give us trouble, Sheena will put the bombs where we want them."

"And me? What will I do?"

"You're going to set them off when I tell you to."

Lloyd fingered the controller in his pocket. "What if he searches me? What if he finds the detonator?"

"I told Magnius you're my technician. It's not going to exactly be suspicious for you to be carrying around an extra few pieces of plastic in your pocket."

Raine stood, walking over to one of the near-empty drawers and pulled it out, looking through it. "It's almost sundown. I'll spend a while pretending to solve the logistical problems of occupying a city you've already wrecked. Lloyd, you can come with me. It'll be good for you to learn a bit about the economics of siege warfare. Sheena, take this." Raine held out her hand. A string of gold hung between her fingers.

"What the hell is this?" Sheena asked.

"A necklace, obviously."

Sheena took it, and it disappeared into the folds of her dark clothes. "Why…"

"For good luck."

Sheena gave Lloyd a confused look. "Seriously?"

"Keep it. It's an order."

Lloyd couldn't help but smile at the look on Sheena's face. Raine headed for the door, glancing back to the assassin standing bewildered in the middle of the floor. "Good luck, everyone. And don't screw up. We all die if you screw up."

Lloyd had to still his own anxious breath as he followed her out of the door, back down to the wasteland of Palmacosta.


	45. How to Properly Finish a Game of Cards

"Kvar came back," Kratos told her. She lay on her back in her cot, bundled tightly against the chilly air of her private chamber. Kratos leaned against the far wall, looking at his feet. He had left for less than an hour and she already worried that he had ditched her for good. She scolded herself for fearing it—but she knew he was right when he said that if he did not keep her company, the Cardinal would.

"What do I care?" she muttered, clenching her hand at her side. Her exsphere burned, sending pangs of searing pain up her arm when she moved it. It was worse in the early mornings, but faded as the day wore on.

"He wasn't happy we got into his stores of wine."

"How does he know we did it?" Anna sat up, stretching. She shook out her arm, pulling her muscles to life. The pain in her hand declined, slowly, and not by as much as she would've liked. But she felt a tiny bit better when she stood up.

"He doesn't. But he can hazard a guess."

"What's he going to do about it?"

"Nothing." When she bent to look up into Kratos' downturned face, she could see the edges of his mouth curl. "Nothing he _can_ do."

Anna smiled back at him. "It's the little things that make life tolerable, don't you agree? I say we break into his office and switch all the contents of his drawers."

"He would go insane."

"More than he is now?" Anna waited for Kratos to unlock the door for her before she led him out into the hall. "Well, another day," she sighed. "Let's get this over with."

"Where to? The balcony, the wall, the mess hall, or the break room?"

"Gods, Kratos, I'm starting to think I should actually do some work around here. The other prisoners are starting to talk."

"Let them. You're growing the exsphere fine without having to resort to manual labor."

"Having it on at all is suffering enough, I suppose." She glanced down at the tiny thing. It looked just like the first one she grew—bluish, innocuous and dull. She wondered where her old one was. If it was indeed lost, it could be at the bottom of the sea by now. She guessed it didn't matter. She knew in her heart they wouldn't stop at one, not when they could squeeze more out of her. No matter what Kratos told her, she knew they would not leave her alone as long as she lived. She could only hope that they might give Lloyd some peace. "Let's go look over the forest," she said. "Let's check up on Noishe. See if he's made any progress scratching up the wall."

Kratos took her arm, leading her to the elevator that led to the metallic battlements of the ranch. She expected they would see the same weaponry positioned on each corner, ready to fire at whatever came from the wilderness. Kratos had made his rounds, asking questions of the guards, but got no important information. All they told him was that there was increased Renegade activity in the area, so that's all he could tell her. She believed he wasn't withholding anything from her, but she had started to doubt her ability to judge character of late.

"I wonder where he is now," Anna muttered, leaning against her husband.

"Who, Lloyd?"

"Yes. I wonder if he's up in arms yet. If he's going to concoct some foolhardy plan to break me out."

"He's not. Apparently he's trying his best to readjust to his old life. He's probably forgotten about us already."

"I doubt that. Lloyd doesn't usually hold grudges, but I think he might make an exception this time." The look Kratos gave her made her smile a little sadistically. "I guess I don't want to think he's given up on me. He's always been kind of a mama's boy."

"We can only _hope_ he'll give up on you. That's the only way either of you will survive all this."

The elevator door opened and they stepped out onto the outer wall, the crisp mountain breeze flinging her hair across her face. "Gods, there's a significant lack of hair ties in this facility," she complained. She reached down, pulling at the black string that kept her dingy prisoner's shoes on her feet. "Hey, can you help me with this?" she asked, and he reached down to pull at the shoestring. "One arm, you know. Yeah, like that. Now, you mind tying my hair back?"

He moved behind her, gathering her curly brown strands, and started to weave them. She had forgotten that he'd done this for her before—he used to run his fingers through her hair for hours, absentmindedly or deliberately. He kept doing it, even when she'd cut her hair, but he managed to pull her jaw-length locks into a tight braid.

"Lloyd used to do that," she couldn't help muttering. The wind carried her soft words away, but she knew he did not miss them completely, not with his ears.

"Braid your hair?"

"Yeah, in Palmacosta, mostly. It was so damp there, it frizzed like crazy. He was the only one who could tame it—what with me only having one hand. I couldn't get the stuff into a bunch to save my life."

"I know. I saw him through your window."

Anna sighed. "I should've known you were spying on us."

Kratos finished her braid and tied it tightly with the broken shoestring. "You probably did know, at some level. You might have guessed I couldn't keep away. I really should've, but I couldn't help it."

She smiled, hair now tamed, and stared into the wilderness. "My beauty attracts thousands. Men cross seas and deserts merely to catch a glimpse of me at my bedroom window. I wouldn't expect any man to escape my trapping allure."

"Neither would I," he said.

Her smile faded. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Kratos. Surely you've noticed."

"Not really. You're still the same Anna."

She laughed bitterly before returning her gaze to the far mountains. "I would always worry, you know… about me growing old, and you staying the same. I wondered what would happen, when people would see us together and you'd look more like my son than my husband."

"Nothing. Nothing would happen."

"I had always assumed when I hit midlife, you'd throw me out for a younger, newer model. One that looks more your age."

"I would never, Anna…"

She didn't pull away when he lay his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I wouldn't blame you, Kratos. Eternal youth comes with a price, doesn't it? Growing old with someone is just not an option."

"No, it's not. I knew that would happen when I chose this life."

"And there's nothing we can do about it now, I know." Anna sighed, lowering her eyes. "But sometimes I can't help wonder…"

"What?"

She looked back up at him. "What you would look like as a shriveled old man." Kratos recoiled, frowning, and Anna continued. "You'd still have that same old scowl on your face, the same curmudgeonly look. You'd speak exclusively in grunts. You would cheat at card games and still lose. You'd hit people with your cane. I can see it now."

Her laugh drew a small smile from Kratos, and she took his hand in hers, leading him across the wall. They looked out onto the forest, into the shadows of trees shuddering in the wind. She let the chilly air become her breath, closed her eyes, and imagined the both of them falling, falling off the wall, onto the grass below, then through that. They would fall deeper into the earth, past flowing rocks and dark caverns, until the fires at the core consumed them both, leaving nothing but ashes.

* * *

"You see, I was just as stifled at the ranch as the prisoners were," Magnius belched. "_This_ is how it's supposed to be—people destroy each other, and themselves, of their own will. We don't need ranches—humans are animals anyway. Much better this way, in the wild. Much more natural."

"_Fascinating._"

Lloyd wondered if Magnius was sharp enough to detect the clear derision in Raine's voice. He had never heard her so utterly unimpressed. But she pretended to revel in Magnius' half drunken speeches regarding personal freedom, the "natural order of things," the merits of strength and the overvalue of cleverness.

Lloyd forced himself to stay quiet—every time he opened his mouth, Raine would stomp on his foot under the table. Instead he watched his own cards, watched the faces of the oil paintings around the governor-general's leisure room, watched Raine pretend to hang onto Magnius' every word, all while sliding more and more wine to him from across the table.

"Boy! It's your turn!"

Lloyd drew and discarded. He had no idea what they were playing or how to play it.

"Bah! What an idiot," Magnius said, dropping three cards in front of him. "I think you just lost your girlfriend in a bet," he laughed.

"Oh, please, another game!" Raine cried, laying her hands on Magnius. "Just one more. You still haven't finished telling me everything you know about natural selection." She emphasized her words in a way that almost made Lloyd laugh. Her tone soared over Magnius' head, and he gleefully continued pontificating.

The sun had set hours ago. Raine had dragged him through cellars, past storages, pretending to take stock. While walking through the mansion, calculating what food was left and how long it would last, he found himself fiddling with the detonator. As far as he knew, no one had seen him, but if they had, it could easily be passed off as a technician keeping his project close.

He had kept up his end of the operation. Raine was doing a fabulous job of hers. Now all they had to do was wait for Sheena, and then Raine would give the signal. Then they'd be out of there, easy as pie.

Or so Lloyd liked to think. Nothing was coming particularly easy to him at this moment. He stared at his cards, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. It didn't matter in the long run, he guessed, since Magnius was still downing drinks at unbelievable velocity, celebrating each time he won. Lloyd suspected Raine let him win—he didn't need to do much on his end. Magnius was raking in all their theoretical cash—and had laid more than one claim on Raine herself.

_You__'__d think a half-elf would know better than to treat people like chattel, _Lloyd couldn't help but think. _Maybe he__'__s never been to Tethe__'__alla. I wonder what he__'__d say then. That humans were naturally the strongest, the hardest-working, and so deserved to be at the top of the caste? _

"Lloyd, it's your turn," Raine nudged him.

"Oh, right." He rearranged his cards and drew one, before discarding. Magnus shook his head, obviously displeased with Lloyd's lack of card-playing prowess. He was about to take another game when two of his henchmen burst into the room, a shadowy figure hanging off their arms. Lloyd's heart skipped a beat when he saw Sheena struggling between the two of them. He wondered if she'd gotten her job done before she was caught so ignobly.

"We found this one lurking about the outside," one said. "She's up to no good."

"Really?" Magnius stood, grey eyes narrowed. "What did she do?"

"We found this on her."

One of the men reached out and proffered a shining object. Lloyd's lungs tightened for a moment, until he realized the tiny thing in his hands was nothing more than a glinting metal chain. Magnius grabbed the necklace and looked it over. "Ah, greed, is it?" he laughed. "She's one of yours, Raine?"

Raine nodded, reluctantly. "I swear, I had no idea what she was doing."

"Well, you're not in control of her anymore anyway." Magnus threw the necklace behind him. It crumpled to the floor with a soft tinkling. "She's responsible for herself, like we all are." He leaned down toward Sheena, smirking. "If you wanted to steal from me, fine. But the real sin is that you weren't quick enough to get away with it." Magnius cracked his neck. "I guess we should kill her."

"Let me do it," Raine said. "She's an embarrassment."

"Fine by me." Magnius shrugged, smiling. "Doesn't matter who does it."

Raine pulled her rifle off the wall and followed the two soldiers out of the room, down the hall and to the back courtyard, silent the whole time. Magnius walked after her, visibly stumbling. Lloyd knew it was now or never, but just as Raine told him to do, he waited.

Sheena was panting, sweating, struggling in panic as she was forced to her knees. "Raine," she squeaked, no doubt recalling the man she had shot earlier, over the wall. "Don't do this, I swear to all the gods—"

"Shut up," Raine told her, checking her rifle. Lloyd slipped his hand into his pocket, thumbing the tiny chip with its compressible button, wishing, wishing to all the gods that Raine would just tell him to push it.

She did. As she raised the barrel to Sheena's head, she gave Lloyd a short glance. He watched one eye close in a tortured wink—once, twice—it all happened so slowly. He sucked in a deep breath, heart thumping, and squeezed the tiny object in his pocket.

The base of the mansion exploded in a shower of smoke. He could see the blast before he heard it—grey bits of rock tumbled into the air, followed by a thick cloud of dust. The wave of sound that hit his ears deafened him, and he threw himself away from the burst, covering his face and head. A rush of air and dust flew past him, blinding him. He stumbled away from the explosion, ears ringing, sight blurry, until he could make out humanoid shadows, darting back and forth, arms waving. He could barely hear their shouts, he was swirling in confusion and an impenetrable vortex of dust and debris.

Somebody grabbed his arm. He turned, ready to draw his knives, but he only saw Raine, face smeared with dust, dragging Sheena behind her. "Are you all right?" Her mouth stretched wide like she was screaming it, but Lloyd could barely hear her.

"Yeah," he replied, voice drowned by the ringing in his ears.

"Good. Sheena, go get the Captain. Take out anyone in your way, but find him and get him and his men out of here."

Sheena nodded, surprise and confusion still etched onto her features. But she slipped off into the dust, regardless of her shock. Lloyd supposed that's why Raine chose to bring her along—her extensive training made her ideal in high-stress situations. Lloyd, however, was starting to doubt his own usefulness.

"Wouldn't it have been better if Magnius was _in_ the building?" he shouted, as Raine grabbed his wrist and started to pull him down the dusty street.

"Of course. But we had yet another change of plans. I wasn't going to execute Sheena. She's an asset we can't dispose of at this juncture."

A massive pillar of ice rose beyond the ruins of the governor-general's mansion, seemingly out of nowhere. Mana saturated the air in a wave of intensity, and Lloyd had to slow to watch the summoner's magic in action. Raine seemed like she didn't want to watch the show. She grabbed Lloyd tighter and pulled him toward the city wall.

"What weapons do you have?" she asked him. "Magnius will follow behind us any minute now."

"I have my knives, and that incendiary grenade I made."

"Well, it's not a lot, but we can manage." Raine pulled him up a set of crumbling spiral stairs to the top of the wall. They ran along it, obscured in smoke, to a sheltered battlement. Raine knelt and checked the state of her rifle as Lloyd scouted for any sign of Magnius through the clearing smoke.

"There he is," Lloyd muttered to her, peering over the stone at the Cardinal, shocked and furious, rampaging down the street. He cut down a few of his own men who accidentally stumbled in his way, swinging his giant axe like a child's toy.

"How many soldiers does he have with him?" Raine asked.

Lloyd counted, subtracting the individuals who found themselves at the receiving end of some intense axe swings. "Seventeen—sixteen."

"Guns?"

"Uh… looks like most of them have them."

"Too many," Raine sighed. She squatted, crawling along the protected length of the battlement, motioning for Lloyd to follow. She found a suitable spot and slid her gun through a slit in the stone. "Lloyd," she muttered. "Scout for me. I can take out Magnius, and maybe—if I'm quick—one or two of his men. But they'll come running up here as soon as they realize what's going on. We can't fight them all."

"So, what do we do then?" he asked.

"We run like hell. Try to find a way out before they get to us. Stay out of sight, if possible. They can still shoot us from afar."

"All right."

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

"As I'll ever be."

Raine steadied herself, leaning against the battlement, aligning her sights and taking a deep breath. She narrowed her eyes, muttering to herself, as her trigger finger settled at its proper place. "There's a long list of things I hate in life," she whispered. "But right at the top is biological determinism."

Her finger twitched, the barrel smoked, and sounding a sharp, loud bang, the rifle recoiled slightly. With a guttural, inarticulate grunt, Magnius fell to the ground in a shower of blood. Several of his soldiers bent down to help him, a couple made a run for it, but the majority raised their eyes, scouting for the source of the shot.

"And now we run," Raine said, pulling her rifle back across her shoulder and dashing from the safety of the battlement. She sprinted across the wall, ducking as shots rang around her, bullets ricocheting off the grey stone with puffs of dust. Lloyd ran after her, occasionally turning his head to see how much closer their pursuers advanced with each second.

"They're gaining on us," he panted, as they tore across another battlement and continued running.

Raine swore, and slid to a halt. Lloyd nearly ran into her, but managed to steady himself before he flew off the edge of the wall.

"End of the line, I suppose," Raine muttered, examining the empty space where a walkway should be. They had arrived at the top corner of the city gates, or what used to be the city gates, and found themselves stuck on one end of the portcullis, where the lever for raising and lowering it jutted from the stone. The mechanism itself had been destroyed at some point, and now lay in a ruin of rope and twisted metal.

The passage of wall that connected each end of the gate had been broken some time ago—Lloyd remembered passing the rubble on his way to town. So he and Raine had little choice but to go back the way they'd come, or try their hand at scaling the wall. Lloyd knew either way spelled injury at best, death at worst.

"Give me your grenade," Raine said, as the figures of their pursuers started to materialize from the dust. Some of the men were shouting slurs and insults, some were silent as they ran forward, guns, machetes and whips raised and ready. Lloyd, hands shaking, pulled his last weapon from his shirt and handed it to Raine. She gave it a good luck rub.

"No fuse necessary?"

"It lights up when the insides hit air."

"Good. Pray this works."

She threw the little device into the midst of their attackers, where it sat in harmless suspense for what must've been less than a second, but to Lloyd seemed like a decade. It was long enough that he fervently pleaded with all the gods to make the damn thing explode.

It burst into a wall of purple flame, swallowing all the figures close enough to its heat, driving back those who were lucky enough to be farther away.

It was a tiny, almost pathetic distraction, but it was enough for Lloyd to assess what he could and couldn't use of the broken portcullis mechanism.

"I think this might be our last hurrah," Raine said, watching the flames lick at the sky. The screaming of their pursuers died down as the fire began to abate, and a few survivors attempted to navigate their way through the dwindling flames.

"Not even close," Lloyd smiled, pulling the rope out from the deformed hunk of metal. The rotational portion seemed to still be working—in a purely mechanical sense—but was marred by such friction it lost all functionality. It was a uselessness he could manage to use. "Come here."

"You've got to be kidding," Raine sighed when she saw him wrap the rope around his waist.

"Either they can kill us or we can kill ourselves," Lloyd said. "Hold onto me. I'm gonna jump."

"Gods above," Raine swore, before glancing behind her at their attackers, shapes silhouetted in the dying, bluish fire.

"It'll be fun," Lloyd dared to joke, and reached out to her. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight, biting her lip.

"Don't kill us," she whispered. He held her with one arm and grabbed the length of rope nearest the knot with his other. He glanced back at their pursuers before he threw himself off the wall.

The first few seconds were the worst. Before they ran out of slack, they fell freely, and Lloyd's stomach settled somewhere around his throat. He watched the ground rush up to meet them, suddenly sure that his harebrained plot had killed them both. But they were only a quarter of the way down the wall when their length of slack ran out. The knot of rope tightened around his waist, too tightly. He cried out—it felt like it was squeezing his organs to the point of bursting, his spine felt like it was going to snap in half, but he kept holding on, kept Raine close, kept strong.

She gripped him tightly as the friction of the pulleys slowed their descent. He somehow managed to keep himself upright, keep his own spine from breaking, keep them both alive. When they creaked to a stop, Lloyd couldn't breathe, he felt like his stomach would squeeze its way out of his mouth any second now. His lungs couldn't fill, his gut burned.

They hadn't even reached the ground. They sat there, dangling helplessly, a meter or two above the grass, stuck at the end of the rope. Lloyd scolded himself inwardly. Either they had run out of rope or the friction was too strong that the force of their weight could not overcome it. It didn't matter how the mechanism failed—he didn't have time to troubleshoot. It seemed all he could do was dangle at the end of this rope, helplessly, at the mercy of Desian soldiers above him, rifles at the ready.

"Lloyd," Raine whispered in his ear, hand wandering to his leg. She held his shoulders tight with one arm, and her fingers closed around his knife hilt. "Point your legs to the ground. Be ready."

He barely had time to swallow before she drew the knife and sliced at the rope above him. All of a sudden, the pressure at his waist relented, and he was again in free fall. He grunted as he hit the ground, rolling to a stop, unwilling to let go of either Raine or the length of rope that now hung uselessly from his waist.

When he could breathe again, when his sight started to clear, Raine was already up, desperately trying to lift him off the ground. "Lloyd, we need to go. Get up."

He groaned, pushing himself to his feet, rope still tied about his waist, gut still spasming with pain. He felt like he was going to throw up, he felt like he desperately needed to go to the bathroom, he felt like his insides were going to explode. But Raine didn't seem sensitive to his pain. She merely grabbed him and dragged him across the grasses that surrounded Palmacosta, not willing to slow for him.

He stumbled after her, clutching at his own stomach, trying not to vomit, as blindly fired bullets rained down on them. In the safety of the darkness, they managed to make it to the trees. In the shadows of the thick woods, Raine pulled him behind a tree and shoved him against it.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded, still a little woozy from his fall.

"That was absolutely brilliant," she said.

He was about to smile and try his best to thank her, but he found his mouth suddenly preoccupied. She leaned against him, pressing her lips to his, with such force and fervor he was taken completely by surprise. He had little idea of what was even happening, and did not realize she had kissed him until she had already pulled away.

He blinked stupidly, and she took hold of his arm and started to lead him through the forest, stumbling through the dark, back toward the safety of their distant camp.


	46. A Different Kind of Music

"That was some miraculous shit we pulled," Sheena sighed, leaning back in her hammock. She and the Captain, and all but one of the other soldiers who had followed them into the ruins of Palmacosta had escaped, rendezvoused at their base in the woods and made it back to the sea. Though few were injured, she had taken the worst hits of the night, since her summoning magic had made her a desirable target. Zelos had not left her side since they boarded their little ship—he kept scolding her and sending insults her way, all the while carefully caring for the injuries she'd sustained during the escape and making sure she had enough medicine to keep her happy.

"Miraculous indeed," Raine agreed.

"Clever of you to give me that necklace, though, before I was caught," Sheena continued. "They were so distracted by my thievery they didn't think to look for any sabotage."

"I'm terribly sorry about how awry it went," Raine said, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, no kidding!" Zelos put in. "What are you trying to do, kill my bodyguard? Gods, it would've gone much smoother if I'd been there."

"I highly doubt that," Raine smiled. "Besides, it turned out all right. Few casualties on our side." Even the man Raine had shot was making a steady recovery. He was a little worse off than Sheena at this point, but he would receive medical attention when they got to the remote island ranch. "To be honest, I'm somewhat relieved. I was doubtful that Magnius would've made a worthwhile ally. And now we don't have to worry about keeping him under control."

"Yeah," Lloyd crossed his arms. "I didn't want to have to work with that crazy guy. Rodyle is enough."

"You haven't even had to _work _with Rodyle. Try being one of his engineers." Raine shook her head. "I'm glad this whole ordeal is slowly coming to a close."

"So, what now?" Zelos asked.

"We're going to meet Forcystus back at the remote island ranch. He's installed the mana reactor, and we're going to finally see if our work has paid off. Then if everything's ready, we're going to nip a few buds that still need to be taken care of."

"Like what?"

"The other Desian Cardinals, for one. Once we have a clear path to Cruxis, you're going to open the Tower for us. Then we'll fire the cannon straight at Mithos' heart. Destroy him, destroy his sister, his legacy. We'll be the only ones left."

"Then it's off to Derris-Kharlan for you lot?" Zelos breathed. "That'll be a relief."

Raine gave him a scowl. "I'd watch your tongue when you're at our mercy. There's nothing stopping us from cutting it out."

"Haha, calm down, honey, it's just a joke," Zelos smiled nervously. Lloyd spied him squeezing Sheena's arm. The assassin flinched, trying to pry her ward from her, but he held fast. Raine didn't condescend to look at him as she left the cabin, motioning for Lloyd to follow her. He trotted after her nervously, down an empty passage, to their own room. She hadn't mentioned anything of their novel contact in the woods. Lloyd was afraid she'd forgotten—he could do little else but think of the way her lips parted slightly after she had kissed him.

"You've performed remarkably well," she told him, pushing the door open with a metallic creak. "I've noticed a vast improvement both in your conduct and your skill. In weaponry in particular. You've grown since we first picked you up, conked out in the woods like a drunkard."

Lloyd rubbed the back of his head, blushing. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly have the luxury of being unskilled anymore."

"None of us do." She sat down at their table, crossing her arms. "You especially. Since you're not really one of us."

"A half-elf?"

"No, just a Desian. Or, perhaps you _are_ a Desian, since you've worked so well with us, even though plenty of the others would say you can't be by virtue of being human." She shrugged. "There are many types of Desians. Forcystus, Rodyle, Magnius and his ilk... They may all have different ideas but they are all still Desians. They are loyal to their race in their own ways."

"Some ways are better than others, I guess."

"Yes. I wasn't particularly fond of Magnius, if you could guess. I'm relieved I don't have to endure his company."

"Me neither. I don't think I would've been able to work with him, after what he did to Palmacosta."

"I am dissatisfied less with his brutishness than with his misconstruing of science," Raine said, leaning back and folding her hands behind her head. "I've seen it more than once. Justifying systemic inequality by claiming it's biologically 'natural.'"

Lloyd swallowed, thinking of the white cat by the oasis. "What if it _is_ natural? I mean, the strong prey on the weak all the time. When I see an animal eat another one, I feel bad for the one being eaten, of course… but then again, cats would starve if I saved every songbird they went after."

"I think you've stumbled upon a moral dilemma thinking beings have wrestled with for centuries." Raine bit her lip, eyes wandering to the tiny window looking out over the calm, shining sea. "But the animals have no other options available to them. We have choices—ethical choices—that most animals don't have the luxury, or the capacity, of making. We can choose to take advantage of others. We can choose to act for the good of others, with no benefit to ourselves." Raine shrugged. "It's the price we pay for a cerebral cortex."

"Huh?"

"I mean, because we have the privilege of having brains functional enough to develop these kinds of moral systems, we have to struggle with the consequences. I suppose you could think of it as a trade-off." Lloyd sat down on his bed, scratching his head, as she continued. "Time for your bioethics lesson, Lloyd. Assuming we should operate by standards of might-is-right because it's 'natural' is reductive and fruitless. Deceit, cleverness, inventiveness, luck, teamwork… all these things are conducive to success rather than brute force. Animals express—consciously or not—the same ethical patterns that we praise: parental love, altruism, cooperation, self-sacrifice, loyalty…" Raine rubbed her head. "Gods above, people love to dilute complex phenomena down to suit their own purposes too often."

Lloyd crossed his arms, smiling. "Is that why you shot Magnius in the face? Not because he'd be a bad ally, but because you disagree with him on biology?"

"Oh, that definitely played a role in my willingness to give up on him as a resource. But if I shot everyone I disagreed with, there would be no people left on this planet." She took a moment to scratch at the tip of her nose, delicately. "Don't tell Forcystus this. He doesn't need to know of my professional failings."

"Don't worry. I won't tell him."

Raine glanced over to Lloyd, blue eyes shining. A slight smile crossed her face, and she leaned over the table to push a thick book toward him.

"Aw, really?" Lloyd whined.

"Mana cannon maintenance isn't going to learn itself," she said. "I'll assist you with the diagrams."

Lloyd sighed and let Raine help him through the textbook. He had just finished _A History of Magitechnology_ and didn't have time to celebrate before Raine pushed another tome on him, forcing him through technical jargon and complex illustrations. He couldn't perform calculations worth a damn, and didn't understand half of what was being said, but when he looked at diagrams for long enough, he found that sometimes they just clicked. He'd have a flashback or two to his old job at the ranch, to the innards of his beloved hovercraft, and he'd understand the mechanism behind the illustration—to a degree. Raine seemed both impressed and frustrated with him.

"I'm pleased you understand this—I just wish I knew _how,_" she groaned. "You seem to just be staring at nothing until an epiphany arrives."

Lloyd shrugged. "I guess… I guess I'm just used to learning a different way than most people. Not being able to read forces you to look other places than books for information." He yawned, stretched, and cracked his knuckles. "Can I be done?"

She sighed. "I suppose. I have my own reading to catch up on, anyway." She retreated to her bunk and lay down, opening her newest and most massive book. Lloyd took this opportunity to dig his oud out from under his bunk and pull at a few strings. He was just glad that when he left it at the Desian camp, no one had broken it.

He tuned his strings, nursing them back to life. With each pluck, he brought himself a little closer to home, a little closer to the end of this whole fiasco, a little closer to his mother. He ran his fingers along the length of the neck and drew out a melody.

"Raine, who hates the rain," he warbled.

She nearly dropped her book and glared at him. "Don't you dare write a song about me."

He shut his mouth, but was unable to stop his fingers from weaving the tune he had stuck in his head. He grinned at her, letting the strings vibrate, the soft sound of the old oud filling the tiny cabin and bouncing off the metal.

He played until dark, until the sun disappeared behind the sea's flat body. Raine left and returned with some food, and sat with her book while she nibbled. After dark, when he had exhausted his instrumental repertoire, he moved onto his vocal one. He closed his eyes and hummed for a while, singing whatever Trieti songs he could remember, his fingers falling back into the music as if they'd never stopped playing. He leaned against his pillow, wishing he could do this every night, after he got done his lessons. _That__'__s what I__'__m fighting for, I guess_, he thought. _So I won__'__t have to fight any longer. So I can spend hours just sitting and playing instead_.

When he opened his eyes, he stopped plucking. Raine stood above him, book closed, staring at him. "I can't concentrate with you howling like a wolf over here."

He smiled, stilling his fingers. He only protested when she grabbed the neck of his oud. "What are you doing—" he started, but she held a finger over his lips. He let her gently tug the instrument out of his hands and lay it next to the bunk. He gulped, muscles tightening, as she seated herself at the edge of the mattress and leaned over him. Wide-eyed, he focused on her lips, parting slightly, like they did back in the forest outside Palmacosta. He lay petrified, skin tingling, as she pressed her face gently against his. The softness of her touch surprised him, and he lay still beneath her, reveling in it. He had no idea what to do, so he let her mouth open against his. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest, his breathing quickened, and he simply lay still as she raised her hands to his cheeks and cupped his face. Her soft fingers stroked his cheek, one hand settling on the side of his neck while the other found its way to his chest.

When she pulled away, the taste of her still on his lips, he blinked slowly, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Gods, Lloyd," she chuckled. "You don't have to look so frightened. I'm not going to hurt you."

A small bead of sweat dripped from his temple. "I know. It's just that I've… I've never done… I don't know how to—"

She lowered her finger to his lips, and his words became nothing but breath. "Then it's about time someone taught you." She touched his cheek, smiling. "And I'm your teacher. So just relax."

"Uh… okay," he answered. Relaxing was more difficult than he suspected, but by the time they each managed to struggle out of their uniforms, he'd gotten the general idea of what he had to do. When he strayed or hesitated out of nervousness, Raine wasted no time in lifting her face to his and whispering in no uncertain terms what she wanted him to do. He was just happy enough to have a guide, and when she asked him if he wanted to stop, if he was all right, if he liked this or disliked that, he found himself answering her honestly, as he would in a lesson. With her soothing voice in his ear, his nervous, ragged breath slowed, and he had no trouble following what he assumed was merely a natural course of action.

Her presence, her warmth, the way she held his hands in hers, opened a part of his mind he did not know existed. She seemed to glow with a light he didn't understand, but he prayed to all the gods that she would keep holding him, keep running her fingers through his hair, never leave him. With each breath, she drew all reluctance from him, and this moment which scared him so much became a moment he wished would never end.

Unfortunately, like all good things, it did. He collapsed beside her, breathing heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead. He sighed, unsure of what he was supposed to do next.

"It's a pity we can't smoke in here," Raine said. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"I've never seen you smoke," he said.

"I don't, usually." She stretched. "Often a drink will suffice. You want one? I'm sure I have something left in my flask."

"Uh… sure."

When she stood up, shrugging off the ratty excuse for a sheet, he suddenly felt cold. She seemed unbothered by the chill, standing naked in the middle of the room, pouring a couple shots in two tiny, tin cups. The rocking of the boat spilled a few drops over the sides, and she swore.

He felt like he shouldn't look at her, perhaps out of a sense of misplaced modesty. But he couldn't take his eyes off her as she sauntered back to him, seating herself at the edge of the cot.

"Thanks," he said, taking the drink from her. He wondered if he would feel a little less strange about this unfamiliar interpersonal situation if he were just a little bit tipsy. He took it and grimaced—old Palmacostan whisky, again. He much preferred those pink Altamiran cocktails.

"Come to think of it," Raine smiled, noting the look on his face, "I should've stolen some booze from the governor-general's mansion before we blew the whole thing to bits. Now it's a little late, isn't it?" She downed her own drink and blinked.

"I wonder how the city's doing," Lloyd said, turning over.

"They're better off with Magnius gone," Raine said. "From the reports, after we left, the rest of his men scattered. Citizens might start the rebuilding process soon."

"That's good to hear, but still…"

She reached over and squeezed his hand. "What? You feel bad for the place?"

He nodded slowly.

"Don't. Palmacosta's a hole crawling with pirates and whores. I suppose it's still better than what Magnius turned it into, and we did what was necessary to destroy him. What the town does next is its business, its responsibility."

"That's cold," Lloyd said. "You'd at least think the Desians would help rebuild it, if it's their fault Magnius wrecked it in the first place."

"We don't have time for that. We have other things to do. We must destroy the greatest threat first, then we can deal with things like rebuilding Palmacosta."

"Bigger fish to fry, I guess," Lloyd sighed. He suddenly felt tired. His eyelids drooped, and he curled up, wrapping the blanket around him. He hoped that Raine would crawl under with him and keep him warm, but she was up and about the cabin, cleaning herself off, redressing. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I have quite a few calculations to work through," she answered, pulling on her uniform. "As soon as we land at the island, we're going to test the cannon. I need to make sure everything's perfect."

Lloyd hugged his pillow. "And then what?"

Raine stilled, halfway through her sleeves. "Well, if it's finished, and we have all the Desian labor and engineers we need, we're going to release the prisoners."

"All of them?"

Raine nodded. "All who wish to leave."

"Well, who wouldn't?"

"Some of my subordinates are better off working on the cannon than they were in the human world. I try to keep the scientific staff from mistreating them, so some of them wish to stay. They have nowhere else to go."

"Sorta like me, I guess," Lloyd sighed, folding his hands behind his head. "Does Rodyle know you're going to release all his human cattle?"

"No. And you're not to mention it, _ever_." The sternness in her voice made Lloyd sit up. He looked her over, at her serious frown, her glinting eyes. "This stays between us. Oh, and _this_, this whole thing…" He knew what she was talking about. "This stays between us as well. Understand?"

Lloyd nodded. "Another one of your 'professional failings?'"

She smiled, leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. "My biggest one yet."

* * *

"What's that?" Anna asked, lifting her head to the wind. "It sounds like music."

"It's Kvar and his radio," Kratos mumbled. "One of his men somehow managed to get it to work across both worlds."

"What's playing now? You can hear it, right?"

Kratos closed his eyes, ears twitching. He frowned. "I'm not familiar with the tune… wait, perhaps I am… It's either 'Sinfonietta for a Bluebird' or… 'Violin Concerto no. 4' by Eckertson."

"What?" Anna laughed. "Those two are completely different. No one who's not tone deaf would mistake the two."

Kratos tilted his head, one eye squinting, presumably so he might hear better. "It could be 'The Knight's Waltz.'"

Anna rolled her eyes. "Good gods, Kratos, for having such spectacular ears, you are the _worst_ listener. I can't hear anything and I know it's not 'Knight's Waltz.' It has the wrong time signature."

Kratos half-smiled at her. "How can you tell from here?"

"Instinct." She grabbed his arm and tugged at it. "We should take that radio."

"No, Anna."

"Kvar doesn't need it. And he won't dare punish me with you around. Come on. We can sit down and have a good listen. Then you'll finally learn the difference between a minuet and a waltz. And a berceuse and a pavane. I can finally teach you to dance."

"No, I'm no good."

"Kratos." She wrapped her arm-and-a-half around his waist and squeezed. "I only have so long to live. Let me dance at least once before I die."

"You're not going to die here, Anna."

"Keep lying to yourself. It won't help."

He gripped her arms, perhaps moved by the self-assurance of her defeatism. His intense eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything. He merely turned his head, glancing at the slitted window through which the music drifted. She knew she'd won, and she'd have a radio in her hands soon enough.

"Any word about Lloyd?" she asked. "Is he all right?"

Kratos closed his eyes, evidently concentrating on the music. "No word. It means he's probably fine."

Anna sighed. "Gods, I miss him."

"Me too."

"I suppose as long as he's okay, then this is all worth it… But if I really do never get to see him again…"

"You will. As soon as the exsphere grows and we safely remove it, I will talk to Yggdrasill about letting you go back to the desert."

"And if he says no?"

Kratos lowered his head. "Well… if I break you out, they'll go after Lloyd. He'll be here in your place."

"So I guess I'll be stuck here, then."

"Anna… If I could take your place, I would. Gods, I would, you know this."

"And I know it's not possible," she sighed. "Why me? What's so special about me?"

"They don't really know. They've done more blood tests than I can count. If they find out, there's nothing stopping them from rounding up more people like you and putting them through the same process."

"Well, I suppose it's better that it's just me, then." She closed her eyes, exhausted. "I hope the lot of them are grateful, the people who could've been here in my place." Kratos lay his hand on her back, silent. A puff of wind carried a particularly lively passage from the adjacent tower and Anna recognized the song playing. "It's the overture from _The Horseman__'__s Daughter_, that's it." She shook her head, laughing cynically. "And you thought it was the 'Knight's Waltz.'"

Kratos smiled. "I think you and Lloyd share the same inclination for music," he said.

"Oh, Lloyd's never seen an orchestra in his life. He knows a few folk songs, though. Quite a few." She turned, leaning back on the railing overlooking the forest. "Did he play his oud for you?"

"He bought a lute. He said he'd never played one before, but he picked it up remarkably fast. I never knew he was so talented."

"Well of course he is. He's my son," she smiled proudly.

"He's mine too. And I haven't a musical bone in my body."

"I know you don't."

"And yet I always find myself surrounded by musicians. Mithos, Martel, you, Lloyd… Why is that? Karma? I wonder if I have done something to displease the muses."

"Oh, we all do, at one point or another. Maybe in a past life you were a terrible flautist, and now the gods are punishing you for it. I can imagine you being a competent musician, though… I could more easily see your past self being a terrible poet. Terrible."

"I can visualize that just as easily."

"Sappy, poorly-written love poems would've been your specialty. Gods, teenagers would love you. Critics would despise you. You'd sit in your tower and pump out dreck, day after day, and drown in money and roses."

"You seem to have built quite the narrative for me."

"There's not much else to do around here."

"I suppose not."

"I have a different story for every guard. Do you want to hear them?"

"All right."

"I like these stories because they don't necessarily involve tragedy the same way prisoners' stories do, you know?" She took a breath. "So that one, you see? Over there, picking his nose… he's from a wealthy family, but he has no aspirations except to become a sheep farmer…"


	47. Metal and Water

"Wow…" Lloyd pressed his face up against the glass, looking at the shining hunk of metal protruding from the ocean's bright surface. "That's the Mana Cannon, huh?"

"Impressive, isn't it?" Raine crossed her arms, smiling proudly. "A single shot from that can level a city. It can turn forests into desert, and deserts into forests."

"Well, I guess it does shoot mana," Lloyd said.

"We're going to blast Mithos off the face of Derris-Kharlan with that," Raine said.

"It won't wreck the planet?"

"The resultant mana fallout from the blast should be enough to sustain us. It's a strange side effect from a weapon that shoots the very substance of life itself. You get productive collateral damage."

"How the hell does it work?" Lloyd asked.

"You're going to find out, when you undergo your training."

"I can fix a hovercraft. I can't manage something that huge."

"Oh, it's all relatively simple. I'll show you the reactor when the test run is finished. It should be quiet after the big display."

"Where is the reactor?"

"A few thousand feet under the facility."

"That's a long way down."

"Halfway to hell, I would argue," Raine smiled. Her eyes darted back and forth down the narrow, windowed corridor before she took his hand in hers. "We should go up and watch the test run. You'll be able to assess the culmination of years of my work."

Lloyd squeezed her fingers in his own. "I'm excited. I'm sure it'll be amazing."

"Oh, don't wet your pants, it's not that great."

She dropped Lloyd's hand when they rounded a corner. Another Desian guard marched down the hall toward them, giving a respectful nod as he passed. Raine watched him over her shoulder, before sighing and leading Lloyd toward the elevator that would bring them up to the control room, where Forcystus and Rodyle waited.

They stepped inside, and in the intense, claustral silence, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to her face. She stared ahead, motionless, perhaps deep in thought. He wondered if she would be mad at him for interrupting her contemplations if he cupped her cheek, turned her toward him and snuck in a kiss. He didn't dare try. He never knew when the elevator door might open and they'd have a couple dozen Desians trying to squish in there with them.

Lloyd almost smiled at the thought, but when the elevator squeaked to a halt and the door opened, he stifled his grin. He followed Raine out onto the room, stopping beside her as she saluted Forcystus.

He returned the favor, but Rodyle, seemingly in no fit state for formality, decided to get on with the show. "Is it ready?" he asked eagerly, eyes glinting.

"The team is waiting for your command," Raine said. She turned to what Lloyd assumed was the chief engineer, a heavyset man with his arms crossed over his chest. "But not until we get the okay from you, sir."

The rotund man nodded, mustache wiggling. Forcystus motioned for Raine and Lloyd to approach the long window overlooking the ocean. The cannon glinted in the morning light, standing high above the water, hundreds of feet in length, suspended against the sky like some sort of mechanical deity.

"It's quite a magnificent beast, isn't it?" Rodyle said, nearly drooling. "Fire it. Do it now."

"Calm yourself, Rodyle," Forcystus muttered. "We're not going to fire it. We can't waste the one shot we have on a test run. We're just going to see if it can withstand the mana load."

Lloyd watched as the lights at the base of the cannon flared, but he did not know what they signified. A deep, guttural noise trembled through the air as the machine shook slightly. Even the floor in their high tower seemed to resonate with the sound of the mana cannon's power. It grumbled, and lit itself up, vents spewing, gears twisting. The water touching its sides steamed as power surged through it.

Raine was pressed up against the glass as eagerly as Rodyle. Lloyd could hear her breathing quicken as the giant machine rumbled to life. A sphere of impossibly bright light gathered at its tip, protean and glinting a myriad of colors. It shimmered and trembled, the sphere growing larger, then flattening to nothing, then reappearing again, a different color, a higher intensity. Lloyd clenched his jaw, certain that either that bright light was going to melt the tip of the cannon or fly off into the distance, destroying anything it touched.

"We're at full power," the chief engineer said. "How's she holding up?"

"Marvelously," Raine said, eyes glinting.

Forctystus backed away form the window, smiling. "Shut it off, team. We've done it. Operational so far."

Raine relaxed, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. She stepped away from the window, stopping at Forcystus side and heaving a sigh of relief. Lloyd followed her, but Rodyle stayed at the window, fogging the glass with his breath. He began to laugh. It was barely a laugh—it struck Lloyd as more of an animalistic snigger, a whinny, but the way Rodyle was hunched across the control panel, shoulders shaking, he knew the man was cracking up. Lloyd almost covered his ears against the abhorrent sound, but Rodyle stopped and quickly began to mutter to himself.

Forcystus shot Raine a serious look. She nodded, wordlessly, and stepped up behind Rodyle. She reached to her side and drew her pistol.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Forcystus," Rodyle started, eyes still fixed on the cannon. "But I have no need of you anymore." He let loose one more guffaw and turned, but his wide smile faded when he found the end of Raine's pistol leveled at his forehead. Lloyd saw his jaw drop, his eyes go wide before his face disappeared completely in a burst of red.

The shot was short, deliberate, unflinching. Rodyle's body flew against the glass, smearing it with blood, and he slid to the floor. His legs buckled under him, unnaturally, hideously, and the fingers on his right hand twitched slightly as his arm fell limp beside him. Lloyd averted his gaze from the monstrous deformation that had once been the Desian's head, and instead looked at Raine. She turned, expressionless, a few drops of blood on her face. Forcystus took a deep breath and approached the body.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Anytime, sir."

"I feel for the man who has to clean up this piece of trash," Forcystus said.

Lloyd had trouble speaking, but he managed to squeeze some words past his constricted throat. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

Raine looked over at him, seemingly unaware of the blood dotting her cheeks like so many freckles. "Because he was about to do the same to us."

"But… you didn't have to do _that_."

Forcystus sauntered away from the body, giving the chief engineer permission to leave before turning his attention to Lloyd. "It was the most humane way to get rid of him, wouldn't you agree?" His one sharp, red eye seemed to bore through Lloyd's head, straight into his thoughts. "It was quick, painless. He would've done far worse to us had we not preemptively struck."

Lloyd shook his head. Cardinals. Those goddamn Cardinals and their infighting. Those lot of egotistical pricks who thought each one was better than the last. Who squabbled like petty siblings, but did so with guns and cannons and human lives. Lloyd clenched his fist at his side, trying to still his breath.

Forcystus strode toward him, Raine in tow. "Are you afraid of repercussions?" He lay a hand on Lloyd's shoulder, and he couldn't bring himself to slap it away. "Don't worry. I've taken care of his people. It isn't hard, you know, to turn subordinates away from a madman. They flocked over to me, because they knew he and I were fighting for different things." Forcystus let go, walking again to the window and looking out. "I do what I do for the betterment of my race, and ultimately for the benefit of the world. He did what he did for power. He was a selfish weasel and a lunatic to boot. It did not take much convincing to get his subordinates over to my side."

Lloyd gulped, glancing over at Raine, then back at Forcystus. "Then it won't be hard to turn Yggdrasill's guys away from him, too."

Forcystus smiled. "If you're referring to your father, then yes. I will agree with you. If he sees what you've accomplished I've no doubt he will reconsider his alliances."

"I don't _care_ about him!" Lloyd yelled, perhaps a little too desperately. "I just don't want to have to kill anyone else. I don't want more fighting than completely necessary."

"Which is why I nipped this bud while I could. Before he joined the fray. He would've caused all sorts of trouble."

Before Lloyd could reply, a man burst from the elevator, panting. He held his helmet and bowed briskly to Forcystus. "Sir, a problem with the reactor. I don't know what's wrong, by all our calculations it should've worked. We can't make a diagnosis. We're requesting the Lieutenant's presence immediately."

Forcystus nodded to Raine. "Go. They need you now."

Raine saluted and followed the man out of the room, glancing back at Lloyd. He wanted to go with her, but he doubted she had time to show him around the reactor if she were trying to put out fires wherever she stepped. When she caught a glance of herself in the polished glass of the elevator, she reached up and started to wipe the smears of blood off her forehead. The doors hissed shut behind her.

Lloyd did not like seeing her like that, covered in another's blood. He despised it just like he despised seeing it on himself, in any of its forms, including a glinting, little blue stone. At least when he wore an exsphere, it didn't _look _like he had slaughtered another human being. But he knew his righteous moralizing would get him nowhere. He was in Forcystus' hands now, and they both knew it.

With the emergence of the sudden mechanical trouble, the Cardinal was his only company. He had little choice but to fall in stride with him as he walked toward the elevator. Lloyd was eager to leave the control room anyway, since it smelled of blood, and the bright sound of a gunshot still seemed to echo through its walls. He did not mind leaving the blood-spattered mess of Rodyle behind.

As the elevator doors closed behind him, Forcystus decided to continue their conversation. "You know that we have to work together on this, regardless of your personal disapproval."

Lloyd sighed. "I know. It's not like I haven't killed someone before."

"It gets easier the more you do it," Forcystus said. "Which is a blessing in itself, since it appears to be necessary quite often. You're going to see more before this is all over." Lloyd gulped. "There are only two obstacles left standing between me and Yggdrasill," he continued. "Pronyma, and Kvar. You will probably be interested in pursuing the latter."

Lloyd bit his lip.

"Your mother is still alive, you know. She's interned at his ranch, under Kratos' watchful eye." Forcystus narrowed his one eye when Lloyd didn't answer. He merely stared ahead, at the elevator doors, wishing they would open and he could escape. "He's taking good care of her, he really is. He's doing a marvelous job of keeping Kvar at bay."

When the doors slid open, Lloyd attempted to rush out, but Forcystus was there, following him, holding the conversation hostage. "I mean it, Lloyd. She's doing remarkably well. I don't think it was ever Kratos' intention to bring her back there."

Lloyd stopped in his tracks. "Then why'd he do it? There's no reason good enough that excuses him."

"It's because they were going to take you instead." Forcystus raised his eyebrow when he found he had hooked Lloyd's attention. "You were held prisoner in Welgaia for a time, were you not? They were going to start the experiment on you. You have her blood, so Kvar hypothesized the Angelus Project would be a success with you as the subject. Kratos was given a choice between saving you or saving her, and he chose you."

Lloyd's breath left him, and he lowered his eyes. He remembered what his father had said by the lake, so long ago. How he had failed to choose to save one or the other before, and it ended with both of them at the ranch. Perhaps Kratos was starting to come to terms with his difficult choices.

"I… think I need to go," Lloyd muttered, but Forcystus reached out and grabbed his elbow before he could leave.

"Just remember, Lloyd. Your father is an asset, regardless of his transgressions. The next time you meet, try not to kill him."

Lloyd choked back something that may have been a sob. "I can't promise that." He pulled away, nearly jogging down the hall toward his quarters. He lowered his eyes, clenched his jaw and struggled to comprehend. He wasn't sure if he hated his father more or less, when he really thought about his choice. He wiped something wet from one cheek, turning his face away from a passing guard.

And how did Forcystus know this? How could he claim his father's motives? Kratos always had an excuse up his sleeve, always had a reason to justify his heinous actions. Lloyd wondered if Raine knew, if everyone here knew, if everyone knew everything about his enigmatic father except for him. He gulped, opting to take the less-traveled maintenance stairs to get to his room, to minimize his chances of running into anyone who would see the silent tears streaming down his face.

He had driven himself with such a force of hatred, such a sense of betrayal for so long he'd grown used to it. He'd just come to terms with the thought that his father was merely a soulless, heartless monster, but this… this made it worse. This excused Kratos and shifted the blame to Lloyd. If he hadn't gotten caught, if he'd managed to take care of his mother, if he hadn't been so stupid, so clumsy, if he'd never walked with the Chosen the night of her death… Anna would be free. If his goddamn bastard of a father had not favored him at her expense, she would be fine. It was his fault… It was his fault for being Kratos' child and not a stranger to him.

He stopped to lean against the wall, laying his arm over his face. He almost wished he'd been captured with her. Maybe they'd be dying at Kvar's hands, but they'd be doing it together. And Lloyd would be innocent of all this. He would not bear the responsibility of sending his mother to the ranch. He smashed his fist against the concrete, shaking at the impact.

_It__'__s not your fault. He did this, he made that decision, not you__…_ Lloyd's feeble attempts at personal acquittal were not constructive. He just walked on, nearly stumbling down the stairs, trying to tell himself he was not at fault for imprisoning his mother. _Maybe if I were never born, she wouldn__'__t have had to go to the Iselia ranch. Maybe she wouldn__'__t have turned into a monster. Maybe Kratos could__'__ve saved her. _

Lloyd couldn't describe the relief he felt when he got to the door to his own assigned chamber. He sighed, eager for a little privacy and room for thought, but when he opened the metal door, he found his room occupied.

He quickly wiped what moisture remained in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"We're just here to see what the result was from the mana cannon," Sheena said. She sat cross-legged on his bed, sorting her cards. Zelos reclined across from her, examining his fingernails.

"It went… fine," Lloyd answered.

"I heard some commotion out in the hall," Zelos said, not willing to take his eyes off his hands. "Sounds like something went wrong."

"Well… it only went wrong after the test. They're fixing it now."

Zelos sat up, stretching. "Well, all's well that ends well, I guess. Hey, bud, you been crying about something?"

"No… It's just bright out there."

"The test was that magnificent, eh?" Zelos smiled. Lloyd could feel his gaze pierce him like so many needles, and he lowered his head. "You've got a little blood on your uniform."

Lloyd looked down at his shoulder, hand instinctively covering where he spied the small smear of red. It was too slow for Zelos, though.

"So, who went down?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, kid. You didn't just spill that on your shirt." Zelos gave him a look that Lloyd could only interpret as half amused, half malicious. "Whose is that?"

Lloyd sighed, leaning against his bedside table, suddenly exhausted. "Rodyle's."

"Ah, not surprised," Zelos said.

"Not like anyone will miss him," Sheena muttered.

"What do you know about it?" Lloyd snapped.

"He's a big figure in the Tethe'allan exsphere trade," Zelos said. "He runs the show over there. Anyone remotely involved in it has heard of him, at least."

"Well, now he's gotten out of the business," Lloyd said. He absentmindedly swept at the blood with his finger, rubbing it into his shirt. He knew it wouldn't get out without proper cleaning, but he still found himself scratching at it like he could rub it away.

"Sounds like the whole test was a little more exciting than you made it seem," Zelos said, standing. He reached down for his toes, groaning. "Too bad I wasn't invited. I would've liked to see it in action."

"Maybe next time," Lloyd said. "Once they repair the damage we might have to run it again, just to make sure it works."

"Yeah, maybe…" Zelos' voice trailed off, and he stretched. "Ah, well, no use worrying about it now. Whatever gets fixed'll get fixed." He headed toward the door. "Come on, Sheena. Let's go find what they have to eat in this dump."

She sighed and walked after him, glancing back at Lloyd. He saw a concerned glint in her eyes he'd never noticed before, but she said nothing as she slipped through the door and down the hall, following Zelos closely.

* * *

"So, this is what the reactor looks like when it's inactive. Not very exciting," Raine said, gesticulating around the metallic room. The maze of technology extended so far into the dusty distance it was difficult to tell where the machinery ended and the walls began. The room lay obscured in a glowing, dusty mist, which made the apparatuses look like great metal gods, saturated with the light of their respective heavens. It was impossible to tell that this whole facility was hundreds of feet below the surface of the ocean.

Lloyd knew there was no way he could figure out how everything worked in the time it would take them to get the cannon up and running again. He wanted to tell Raine that the learning curve here might be a little too steep for him, but she seemed to think he'd catch on fast enough.

She introduced him to the other humans and half-elves working on the cannon and its respective reactor. A few of them hung suspended along the sides of the massive machines, wearing white suits and protective masks. When Raine called up to them, they leaned and waved before going back to their work.

"Those are Margot and Alister," she said. "They're transfers from Kvar's ranch."

"Lucky them," Lloyd mumbled, watching the spark of their welding torches burst into the air. He wanted to climb up there and watch their work more closely, but he forced himself to stay in Raine's wake. She probably wouldn't appreciate him dancing around all the machinery and tinkering mindlessly with this or that.

"They _are_ lucky. They're cousins, from a small village outside Luin. Their whole extended family died in his ranch, and they have nowhere left to go. They've been here from the beginning." She led him down a small flight of iron mesh stairs to a steaming vat that resembled the boiler in Lloyd's old Palmacostan apartment. A man sat at its base, clutching a wrench and muttering to himself. "This is Henry. He's a geologist—or he was. His daughter left on a boat for the mainland today."

"Why didn't he go with her?" Lloyd asked. He wasn't sure if Henry could hear him over the clacking of machinery and the screech of the boiler.

"I think he wants to see this work through," Raine said. "He doesn't leave a job unfinished. And now that his daughter is safer than ever, he can finally see it done. I imagine he wants to dismantle the Desian system as much as we do."

Lloyd nodded, and followed Raine as she continued past the boiler. Early that morning, suddenly and with no explanation, the doors to the prisoners' cells opened wide. The guards took a leave of absence, the usual bustle of matutinal activities made way for an oppressive, almost frightening silence. Most of the Desian guard had holed themselves up in the more secure areas of the prison, to discourage any vengeance-seeking among the internees. Lloyd got to watch them through the cameras, wandering like lost souls down the main hall. All doors that led away from the outside had been locked. The people had nowhere left to go but toward freedom, so in a confused swarm, they made their way to the ranch's main door and out to the harbor. Raine said she and some of her peers calculated how many boats they needed to transport prisoners to the mainland, how much dried rations to put on each one, how much fuel, how much fresh water. Installed in each was an automatic navigational system that Desians used often in their own vehicles. They were scheduled to land on the tip of the southern continent in a few days. What the freed prisoners did from then on wasn't Desian business.

Lloyd sat beside Raine in the safety of the Desians' locked quarters, holding onto her arm. He squeezed her elbow angrily as he saw the dismay and confusion on the faces of the prisoners as they wandered to the harbor. Some of them were eager to leave, most were simply terrified about what all this meant.

"Why can't you tell them what's happening?" Lloyd asked.

"They know what's happening," Raine answered. "Forcystus is speaking to them over the P.A. system. He's telling them where to go and what to expect."

"But you can't just release them… after all the Desians have taken from them," Lloyd said. "They have nothing left. Nothing to go back to. They'll all starve out there."

Raine sighed. "I know it's not perfect. There is nothing we can do to give them back their lives. Rodyle has taken their homes away, he's killed many of their friends and family. We cannot change that. But we can at least send them on their way. They have enough food to last them for a few weeks. It was the best we could do with our resources."

Lloyd looked at her deeply, examining the thin, clear film over her seemingly unexpressive eyes. He leaned toward her, wanting to comfort her, but she stopped him. "Not here. Not with them around."

Lloyd glanced behind him at the other Desians, sitting at their respective screens, watching the event unfold. Zelos and Sheena were somewhere back with that crowd, safe from the prisoners, safe from any repercussions.

It all seemed to Lloyd like an unforgivable avoidance of responsibility. He knew these Desians soldiers, their officers—even Lloyd himself—should have to face each and every one of these prisoners and the consequences of perpetuating a system of oppression. He would've liked to see everyone responsible at the mercy of the victims, but he knew it would be a time-consuming waste of resources. He also knew that the chances of a prisoner attacking any one of the guards was high. He didn't want any more bloodshed than there already was.

So he stayed in the safety of the Desian lockdown, watching the prisoners make their slow and calm escape, staring at the screen until he was sure each and every one had found a way onto the boats. When each took off into the water, the lockdown ended. The gates flew open, the Desians left the room and went back to their daily activities, seemingly untroubled by the sudden lack of prisoners. Lloyd thought it was probably better off this way anyway.

But he couldn't hide his surprise that some of the prisoners decided to stay. Most of them ended up being in situations like Margot, people whose lives had been torn up so badly they had no hope of it returning to normal. He couldn't blame them for staying behind, but it was the man at the boiler that confused him. Evidently he had a daughter that was sailing across the sea as he stayed in the Desian facility, arguing with his wrench. Lloyd did not understand why the man would prioritize his work over his daughter, but he supposed he was in no position to judge. Perhaps Henry knew the best chance his daughter had at a good life involved him assisting Forcystus in taking down the other Cardinals. Lloyd himself was guilty of this crime—a voice in his head wouldn't stop telling him he should focus on rescuing his mother instead of helping Forcystus achieve his ridiculous dreams of interplanetary immigration. But he knew that if he wanted to live peacefully, he had to help clean up this mess that Yggdrasill had gotten the world into.

So for now, he would help Raine repair the mana cannon, and hope that it was up and running in time to take down the remaining Cardinals and their angelic overlord. She showed him which lever was which, how the reactor ran, who to talk to for help, what safety procedures he had to undertake in order to get anywhere near the actual mana. Raine told him the reactor itself was temporarily powered on exspheres, but they would switch the power source soon enough.

"To what?" he asked. She gave no answer, but her eyes briefly wandered down to his exsphere, pulsating slightly on his hand. He protectively, instinctively, covered it. He knew that his willingness to hand his mother's exsphere over to them was not a real factor. They would take it no matter his protests. He could only hope that they used it to help rescue his mother and save the world. Then he would not consider it wasted.

He would consider nothing wasted if they succeeded in taking down Cruxis and Yggdrasill. If he could walk out of this all alive, with his mother in tow, he would do whatever it took. He would give up his exsphere, he would help Raine and her people get back to Derris-Kharlan, he would learn the inner-workings of the reactor and the mana cannon. He would learn, he would read, and he would work.

He had always fancied himself some sort of magitech mechanic. Now, perhaps he was finally going to earn that title.


	48. The Last Act of Rebellion

"I don't know what's wrong with this setup," Lloyd scratched his head. "It seems like everything is connected right." He hunched over the paper, half-dressed, mind buried in the piles of diagrams scattered on the table. Pictures, calculations, bits and pieces of metal lay in disarray, crumpled and thrown about the place like a strong wind had rushed through and upturned all of their work.

Raine leaned over his shoulder, examining the diagram of the newest failed mana overload suppression device. They had tried it yesterday afternoon, and shortly after the installation, it had tested fabulously. But when they reran the device, they found it had managed to go horridly awry. "There's nothing wrong with that setup," she said. "That's what perplexes me. It _should_ work. It _did_. But then either the laws of nature changed overnight, or…" She sighed.

"Or what?"

"Someone is sabotaging the mana cannon."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes, blurring the diagram. Her suggestion had some likelihood to it: they had been encountering problem after preventable problem. Wires snapped, parts melted, gears and cogs went mysteriously missing. Sometimes it was merely a small inconvenience, sometimes the damage extended to bigger parts of the machine and took a week or more to fix. Once Lloyd found a wire had burnt all the way up from the reactor chamber to the wheel that aimed the cannon itself. He'd had to strap on a few cords and dangle off the machine's side to fix it. He hung out over the water for hours, and came back with a sunburn that made even dressing painful. He didn't like being reminded how far he'd strayed from the desert, or how pale his skin had become.

But he endured—even enjoyed—his work. It's what needed to get done to rescue his mother and go back home. Besides, he was learning a lot, even if his kinesthetic lessons were regularly interrupted with the snapping of some cord, or the failing of some gear or another. It had happened so many times that when Raine suggested the improbable possibility that someone was sabotaging their work, he almost believed her.

"Still, who here would do that?" he asked. "It's not Margot or Henry or any of the other humans working here, I know that."

"And I'm fairly sure it's not you," Raine said. "I wonder if it's a Rodyle sympathizer Forcystus might've overlooked when he was clearing this place out. We should send a team to interview each worker and examine their quarters. We could discover something that might clear this up."

"That sounds like the best approach," Lloyd agreed, for lack of anything better to say.

"Rodyle was not well-liked, so it seemed improbable that he would have a loyal straggler. But I think we should not discount the possibility. I will let Forcystus know later today—although, considering his interest in our activities, he's probably already guessed we have an imposter."

"How would he guess?"

Raine wiggled her lip, sitting down beside him and sorting through their pile of diagrams. "Things are going awry at a statistically significant rate. We are much more competent than this, and he knows it. He might chalk up the first few mistakes to the chief engineer, but beyond that, he is smart enough to guess that these aren't mere accidents."

Lloyd looked over a few papers, shuffling through them. "I guess there's not much to do but keep trying to make the cannon work," he said.

"And as far as I'm concerned, we're doing a fine job." Raine stood, stretching. "I'm going to go talk to Forcystus about this. In the meantime, you review that layout and report back to me on the voltage calculations. Also, write me a paper. It can be about anything. I just want to see that you know how to construct a sentence or two." She pulled on her boots, shaking out her hair over her Desian jacket. "And work on your punctuation, for all the gods' sakes."

Lloyd sighed, turning his gaze back to the table as Raine closed the door behind her. He stared down at the depictions of wires and pulleys, the messy calculations Raine had helped him make in the margins of the diagrams. They reminded him of a night long ago, when his mother seemed to materialize of nowhere, stepping from the human ranch's walls like an apparition. He remembered the small diagram she'd drawn on his arm, remembered the electrical layout of the Iselia ranch, remembered glancing up at a blueprint of the facility in the storage closet, before he knew what a blueprint was.

He wondered what she would say if she saw him now, an assistant magitech mechanic, tucked safely under the wing of a man who'd been his captor for so many years. Perhaps Anna would be furious, perhaps a little amused. Lloyd figured she'd probably just be happy enough he was safe, making himself useful, and helping orchestrate her retrieval and the subsequent dismantling of the organization responsible for the ranches in the first place. It seemed that his hopes and obligations had far surpassed the merely personal.

The scope of his travels and desires comforted him when it came to his family. In the margins of all his drawings and arithmetic, there was little room for his father to linger. At most, Kratos was an afterthought at this point. He would worry about his father's actions later, when he finally found him again. For now, he needed to focus his attention on the smallest detail of this hypothetical circuit depicted in ink before him. He needed to simply make sure a wheel turned here and a voltage dropped there. Then he could move on to making sure a beam of mana passed through a length of pipe without melting it. Then he needed to make sure all the parts fell together.

Then… and only then, would he be able to move onto much bigger, much more daunting problems.

* * *

"Lieutenant Sage, make yourself comfortable." Forcystus sat by his window, staring out into the endless blue of the bright sky.

"Sir." Raine seated herself across from him, folding her hands in her lap and crossing her legs. She waited for his eyes to brighten, to lose their glaze, before she spoke. She was not eager to speak to him if he was staring into the sky like a bored schoolboy. As always, the best way to get his attention was to skip straight to the point. "We suspect sabotage," she said.

"Yes, I expected as much." The way he held his chin told her he probably already had a plan to deal with this minor inconvenience.

"Sir, I suggest we conduct a search. Since I haven't noticed any untoward activity in the reactor room during working hours, it is possible someone is sneaking around at night. I have ordered cameras be put at each door, but I need your approval for their installation. I also think we should search the quarters of everyone who works on the mana cannon and see if we can come up with any evidence of sabotage."

"That sounds like an adequate start," Forcystus said, eyes wandering from his desk to his hands, and back to his desk.

"Is something amiss, sir?" Raine asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Any explanation of why someone would wish for our cannon to fail?"

"Several. It could be that we have a lingering Rodyle supporter on our staff. It could be a human, out to make us pay for his or her imprisonment. It could be one of ours, who is dissatisfied we have released all of the internees."

Forcystus closed his eyes. "And you think you can smoke them out?"

"Regardless of whether or not I think we will succeed in exposing them, we have an obligation to at least try."

Forcystus, to Raine's surprise, let a small smile slip across his mouth. "That's why I like you," he said. "There is little room for ego in that brain of yours." He folded his hands across the desk. "Just this morning the chief engineer came to me with the same proposal."

"Did he?" Raine pursed her lips. "He didn't tell me."

"That's because he was so sure he could take care of the problem himself." Forcystus raised his one eye at her, glinting red in the bright light. "I want you to investigate him first."

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

Raine nodded. "I will be sure to keep it subtle."

Forcystus gave her a sinister half-smile. "Are you sure our little saboteur isn't your brand new assistant?"

Raine shook her head, telling herself to keep her heart from beating too loudly. "No, it's not him."

"I figured you kept him close so you could tell if he was going to betray us or not."

"At first, I did. I wanted to make sure he didn't do anything suspicious. But it turns out he's quite a clever mechanic. He has been a monumental help."

"And you're still letting him wear his exsphere?"

"Yes, until the time comes to use it for the cannon. Its growth is extraordinary. Even with a key crest, it increases in power almost daily. I suggest we let him use it for as long as possible."

"Does it grow that way when placed on any other host?" Forcystus asked.

"No. I tried it for a little while. It doesn't respond to me the same way it does to him."

"Why do you think that is?"

Raine took a deep breath, searching through her mental notes, trying to recall her most reasonable explanation. "Well, according to the reports from the Iselia ranch files, A012 was still attached to her exsphere when she conceived, gestated and gave birth to him. It could be that the exsphere has an affinity for him because it recognizes his body as a familiar aspect of its initial host. Or, it could be his body recognizes _it_, which is, in my opinion, a more fascinating conclusion." She paused at Forcystus' incredulous look. "Think of it this way: both Lloyd and the exsphere shared the same host, at the same time. His mother was forced to divide her resources between the two of them—in a way, Lloyd and the exsphere were ecological competitors. Lloyd's body may recognize the exsphere as something of an inanimate sibling, and the exsphere probably sees him as the closest thing it has to its original host. What blood flowed through A012 then flows through him now. Exspheres are best suited to their first hosts, and Lloyd is the closest thing it has to that ideal environment, so it's no surprise we observe a fast growth rate. What is strange, however, is exactly _how_ powerful it's becoming. If we keep it on him for a bit longer, it could end up being able to power the mana cannon for more than one use."

Forcystus interweaved his fingers. "So, you think we might be able to fire several shots?"

"It's possible. Unlikely, but possible. That's why I suggest we at least try to keep it on him for a little while. Unless we can get our hands on a fully realized Cruxis Crystal, his exsphere is the only reliable power source we have."

"What about the Chosen's?"

"He hasn't yet completed his journey. His Cruxis Crystal is still in the initial stages of growth. However…" She trailed off, recalling the way it shone at his neck with a light she found disturbing.

"However what?"

She shook her head. "I will have to study it a bit more to prove its viability. That will take precious time and resources better spent on cultivating the Angelus exsphere and repairing the mana cannon."

"I see." Forcystus stood, turning again to the bright window. "Thank you for this information. I expect you shall carry everything out according to protocol."

"Yessir," Raine stood as well, folding her hands behind her back. Forcystus seemed rather reticent to her today, but as his underling, she couldn't afford to be familiar enough with him to ask him what was wrong. She would have to find out when the time came, like all other officers.

But when she made her way toward the door, he called after her. "Raine," he said. She froze, turned to him, and nodded. He stared at her, his one red eye glinting like fire. "I trust your opinion."

"Sir?"

"We have everything we need, do we not? We have the boy, we have his exsphere, we have the cannon. As soon as this nuisance of a betrayer is out of our hair, there will be nothing stopping our advance on Kvar." Raine didn't need to correct him. He folded his hands and sighed. "This is taking longer than expected. My fighters are restless. They know we need to pull the Renegade thorn from our side as soon as possible. So I'm sending out a detachment to take down Yuan. Hopefully, they will bring him to me alive. If not… well, I will live with that."

"Sir. Am I to accompany them?"

"No. At this juncture, when we're so close to completion, you are needed here." He frowned. "I merely tell you this plan because if we get to Yuan in time, before he destroys his own base—"

"Then we will have access to his inter-dimensional gate," Raine said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. She quickly closed her mouth and hung her head, knowing she deserved reproach for interrupting a superior.

Forcystus, instead of wasting his time berating her, decided to move on. "Yes. We will need your help in that area greatly. You will want to salvage as many of his scientists as you can. He has a veritable bevy of aeronautic engineers."

"Yessir," Raine said. "Eagerly, sir."

He smiled. "I also want you to pass this information along to Lloyd. He has spent some time with Yuan, you see. According to my intelligence, he tried to kill the boy to get his father over to his side. If he knows we have Lloyd, he might join us. And then we will likely entice Kratos as well."

Raine lost her grin. "Do you really believe so, sir?" she asked.

"You don't?"

"Lloyd has told me several times that Yuan's plan to manipulate his father failed. He said that even when his life was on the line, Kratos refused to shift allegiances."

"That is disappointing to hear. Perhaps he simply did not appreciate Yuan threatening his son's life. Maybe if he sees Lloyd act with us of his own accord, he will change his mind."

"We can hope," Raine said.

"We can indeed." Forcystus again turned to his window, immediately losing himself in thought.

He did not dismiss Raine outright, but she knew his silence acted as permission. She bowed her head, slightly, even though he wasn't looking, and slipped out of the office, into the empty hall.

* * *

Lloyd lay curled on his bed, with Raine curled around him. He liked the way her soft skin touched his, the way she would run her finger along his cheek as if examining it. Her hand settled on his neck, and she sighed into the back of his head, ruffling his hair with her warm breath. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to face the day. He knew he would have to work out the mana cannon's problems, one by one, seemingly to no avail. After about twelve hours of that, when he could finally sit down and enjoy a meal or a rest, Zelos would pop up beside him, demanding to play cards or start a drinking contest. Sheena wouldn't be too far behind, both bored out of their minds in the Desian facility. Zelos' task of opening the Tower was not yet upon him, and Sheena had no trouble keeping the Chosen safe in this environment. They had nothing else to do but play and drink, drink and play. Lloyd almost felt jealous. He had no time for himself—even his oud lay neglected at his bedside, woefully out of tune.

But in his few moments of rest, especially when Raine would tear herself away from her work and come lie with him, he allowed himself to relax. He allowed himself to think of things other than the mana cannon, other than math and diagrams, other than his mother. Sometimes he would think of the desert, and wonder what Barra was up to, wonder if Ezra had found his way home, or found his fortune in the wilderness.

He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander, reveling in the way Raine's fingers drew themselves through his hair. He tried to keep himself from cooing like a pigeon. At his heavy sigh, her hand stopped moving. It lay on his back, suddenly tense.

"You know, Lloyd…" she started, haltingly. "You know I'm just using you."

Lloyd took in a sharp breath, raising his head just slightly. "Using me? For what? Your mana cannon?"

She smiled. "No." She lay her head down next to his, and he felt her light breath on his skin. "For when I go to sleep."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever I close my eyes, I see my family there. They're far away, calling out to me. My mother and father, with Genis in between them, holding their hands. I tell them I'm busy, that I can't come to them, but they don't seem to hear. I tell them to wait for me, that I'll be there soon enough, but they keep on coming toward me, calling my name." Lloyd swallowed a lump in his throat as she ran her fingers across his neck. "But with you here, they don't notice me. I can hide behind you. I can shrink down in your shadow until I'm no bigger than a fly, and I'm safe from them. They can't see me when I'm behind you."

Lloyd turned his head, looked at her pale face, her bright eyes. "Have you been drinking?" he asked.

She nodded slightly. He rolled over and took her in his arms before burying his head in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her. "You need to stop working so much. Stop working and stop drinking. You need to start sleeping more." He hugged her close. "Sleep here and keep me warm. It's cold in here."

"I know," she said. She stayed silent for a while, staring at the ceiling. She blinked a couple times, breathing slowly. "Forcystus told me to tell you something," she said eventually.

"What?"

"He's going to bring Yuan in, if he can. We're going to see if he can work with us."

"Oh." Lloyd turned over. He would've preferred to avoid the Renegade leader, but if circumstances forced him into Yuan's presence, he was sure he could survive it. He'd probably want a few words with the man regardless.

"Is that all you have to say?" she asked.

"Well, I could say more, but it's no use saying it to you. I'd rather say it to Yuan himself."

She sighed. "Well, I'm here mostly to discourage you from killing the man on sight. He might be useful to us."

Lloyd sighed. "Why is it I always have to end up working with former enemies?" he asked, more to himself than to Raine.

"Just your bad luck, I suppose," Raine said. She kissed his ear. "Don't worry about Yuan. You don't even have to see him, if you don't want to. Forcystus and I will take care of him." She put a finger over Lloyd's lips when he opened his mouth to speak. "Just focus on the cannon, for now."

He sighed, and when she saw he wasn't going to protest, she pulled herself up and wandered to the table, where a stack of unfinished calculations lay listlessly. She seated herself on the nearest chair and pulled on her boots.

"Where are you going?" Lloyd asked.

"To search for our little mole," she replied.

"But it's the middle of the night."

"Best time to sneak about without being noticed."

Lloyd sat up. "You're not going alone, are you? What if something happens?"

She smiled at him. "Nothing's going to happen. I'm just going to the surveillance room to watch for a little while." She pulled on her uniform, zipped up her jacket, and shook out her hair. "Besides, I have two dozen guards on night duty. They'll be with me."

"But—"

"Forcystus will not want you wandering around at night. That'll bring you under suspicion. So stay here. Go to sleep, Lloyd. I need you to focus on your work right now. I'm just watching. I'm not going to do anything stupid." The look he gave her made her laugh a little. "Have I ever done anything stupid?" she asked.

"Not that I know of," he said. He had to concede this point. She would be fine, it was likely that nothing would happen. He knew she was right. He shouldn't be wandering at night, but he couldn't help wishing he could convince Raine to sit tight for just a moment. She was so averse to resting, letting her mind wander from anything other than work. He suspected she might not like the directions her own thoughts took when she failed to keep them in check. He knew the feeling.

So he let her leave. He knew he couldn't stop her, if she wanted to go out scouting in the middle of the night. He just knew that if something went wrong, and she called out to him, and he would be there. He turned over, lay his head back down, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Anna ran a finger down Kratos' arm, probing the tense curve of his muscle. She lay her head on his shoulder, wishing she could sink into him until she was nothing but a puff of dust on his shirt, dead, forgotten, safe. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain in her hand, and pulled him tighter to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She insisted he lie down with her on her tiny cot, and he acquiesced, regardless of the inconvenient fact he took up most of the mattress. She didn't mind having to practically squeeze on top of him. It reminded her of their glorious days of fear and poverty, when she was carrying Lloyd, and they could only afford to sleep under bridges, in barns and occasionally share a tiny cot in the back room of an inn.

He almost seemed like he did back then—strong, lively, and—gods forbid—even hopeful. The more time she spent with him, the more like his old self he became. His features softened, his scowl made way for a slight smile, his sternness collapsed under the weight of his own gentleness. She knew that with each portion of the hardened apathy he lost, he suffered a bit more, but she could not help but welcome him back to her. The wall that had kept him safe in her absence began to fall away, leaving him vulnerable and contrite. They both knew he'd made a mistake staying with her here. But it had to be done, to keep Lloyd safe.

She wanted to believe Kratos when he said she would survive. He said they were looking into ways to remove the exsphere without taking her hand with it. He said they told him that when they were done, they'd let her go.

She knew where Lloyd got his naïveté. She could feel her blood thinning to make way for the inexorable colonization of the exsphere's cells, she could feel her muscles weakening, her breath fading away. Her skin was ashen and dry, her eyes dull. Each day she awoke with one more grey hair, and when she combed her fingers through it, she pulled clumps loose. She wondered if Kratos noticed, if he thought she could recover, or if he was blind to all of it.

She lay beside him, curled under his arm, close as an appendage, with her ear on his chest. She heard the slow, steady thump of his heart, the slower intake of breath. His chest rose and fell with the same vigor it always had, his musculature untouched by the years. It unnerved her to see him so unchanged after all this time. His skin was still taut and pale, where hers had suffered the ravages of age and a hard life in the desert. Crow's feet divaricated from her lids, small wrinkles formed at the edges of her mouth when she smiled, and her skin remained dry and stiff from years in the intense desert sunlight. She did not shine with the same light she had when she was younger, but Kratos did not seem to notice. Perhaps he was just trying to be kind.

"It's weird, you know," she said, and he glanced down at her. Sometimes, when he relaxed like this, he would become so still and limp she was sure he'd died, because she knew he certainly couldn't be asleep. But then he'd move, fully aware, eyes never dulled with the weight of tiredness.

"What's weird?" he asked.

"You never getting any older."

"I suppose it is."

"I guess I shouldn't expect you to still love me, when I'm old and gray and you're still a young man."

"Anna, I'll love you until the day I die."

"Yes, well, that day will come a lot later than the day I die. I can see it just around the corner." She sighed. "Gods above, what will you do when I'm gone? What about when Lloyd's an old man, when he withers and wrinkles up—will you be with him then? I can imagine, old man Lloyd, surrounded by his middle-aged children, and his horde of grandchildren, and then you—his eternally young father."

"I won't be around then. I'm going to make sure I go before he does."

"That's a bold statement to make. How will you ensure that happens?"

Kratos stayed silent for a moment, looking at the featureless ceiling. "I'll go when you go, Anna. I'll make sure of it."

"Oh, shut up, Kratos. When I'm dead, Lloyd will still need you, even if he doesn't know it. Even if he doesn't want it, he'll need your help." She thought about the future, following the arc of thought to its inevitable conclusion. "Then I suppose if you take care of him, you'll have to take care of his children, too. Then his children's children, and so on, forever." She laughed. "You'll be burdened for all eternity, tending to his spawn. That's what you get for being immortal, I suppose."

He smiled. "If that's my punishment, I accept it." He leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead. "If any of my progeny need me, I'll be there for them. If it's your wish, then so be it."

"I'm sure they'll be fine one way or another, with your help or not." She shivered, pressing herself closer to him. "Mostly it's me you should be worried about."

"I'm not going to let you die, Anna."

"You were fully prepared to let me die when we first got here, Kratos. You knew what would happen if you chose Lloyd over me."

"I've…"

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind." Anna sighed. "That was always your problem. You have trouble making choices. You've been plagued by your own irresolution for centuries." She squeezed him. "Make this decision count. When I'm gone, watch over Lloyd for me. Make sure he's happy." She shut her eyes tight, cursing at the water that welled up in them. "Don't make this a waste. I don't want to die in vain."

"Anna…"

"I don't want to die at _all_, Kratos." She couldn't stop herself at this point. "I want to watch him grow up. I want to help him struggle through life. I want to be there when he learns things the hard way, when he breaks his bones, or when he finds joy." She took a deep but shaky breath, trying to stop her voice from quavering. "I want to live."

Kratos rolled over, looking into her face. She twisted away, trying to hide her red eyes, but his hand cupped her cheek and turned her toward him. She looked into his ageless stare, and wondered why in the world this man, this miserable, guilt-stricken man who wanted nothing more than the release of death, came to attain immortality, while Anna, who still had much to live for, wasn't going to outlast the winter. The imbalance struck her as heinous.

Kratos was not without remorse, but that came as no surprise to her. When he pulled her close and put his mouth over hers, holding her cheek, a finger touching her earlobe lightly, she knew he wanted nothing more than for her to forget all this. She wanted to forget, too, she wanted to focus on him, to let herself succumb to the intensity of his presence, the way she always used to. But she could not remove herself from the situation, couldn't forget the pain creeping up her arm, couldn't disregard the oppressive ranch air. She could not avoid the undercurrent of time, sweeping her rapidly toward her own end.

But Kratos did not give up. He held her close, running his fingers through her thinning, greying hair, holding his mouth over hers like he was attempting to breathe life back into her. _I have given you that life_, she couldn't help thinking. _You should__'__ve seen yourself just a few months ago_. He held her around the waist, as if trying to steady her, and she wrapped her arm around him, hand settling on his shoulder blade, in the spot where his left wing might emerge. She buried her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. He smelled of stone and other ancient, lifeless things, as he always had. But he was warm, so warm…

When his hand wandered too far, she gripped his wrist. "No, wait. There are cameras."

He drew back, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let them watch."

She looked into his eyes, at the lights that danced behind his pupils, and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't help but mirror his smile, adopt his passion. She wrapped herself around him, delighting in his boldness. His lips tickled her neck and she laughed, and for a short while, her pain disappeared. In his arms, she swore to defy death itself, to show the Desians that she was not defeated yet. She forgot her exsphere, forgot her missing limb, her missing son, her missing life.

She felt whole again.


	49. Morality

"I'm pleasantly surprised at how fast you've uncovered the root of the problem."

Forcystus stood in the command room, arms crossed, eye narrowed. He looked down at the unconscious man, lying curled on his floor. A few drops of blood slipped down the side of his pale cheek, and his eyelids twitched, as if he tried to wake from a fitful dream. He had sustained an injury to the back of the head which left him dead to the world. He had put up a fight, but one of Raine's men got to him with the stock of his rifle, and down he went. They dragged him straight to Forcystus, no interruptions, no delays.

"Sir," Raine stepped forward, saluting. "We found messages on his communicator between him an an accomplice, whom we now have in custody. She denies having any involvement with sabotaging the mana cannon, but we will work on her. This one tried to run."

Forcystus nudged the sleeping man with his foot. "Is he one of Rodyle's?"

"Yes. He's been sending messages to his confederate expressing loyalty to Rodyle. He's apparently dissatisfied with the release of the prisoners."

"Hmm." Forcystus turned, smiling a little. "Put him in their place, then. Stick him in one of their cells. I'll speak with him later."

One of the guards nodded and motioned for his comrade. They each grabbed a leg and dragged the unconscious man from the room, his head smacking against the stairs as they pulled him down from the command platform.

That left only Raine, hands folded behind her back, Lloyd, arms crossed impatiently, and Forcystus, who pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling.

"So. There's that problem solved," Forcystus said.

"I believe so, sir. Although these two were not members of the mana cannon scientific team, they regularly had access to the room as personnel supervisors. Therefore they had several opportunities to dismantle the cannon." Raine sighed. "It's been a long few weeks, sir, but I believe we shall see a stop to the damage. We will have the cannon up and running very shortly."

"Good. Let me know when you are ready to test it again. In the meantime, I have my men searching for Yuan."

"Is he not in the desert, sir?"

"No. He's a slippery bastard. He's gathered his remaining followers and fled the base."

"That's good news," Raine said. "With him gone, we might be able to access his portal."

"Yes, it _would_ be good news, if his engineers hadn't shut it down before they left. They were thorough. We can't get it up and running again."

"Perhaps I could—"

"You must focus on the cannon for now. I can't have you dashing across the world just to play with Yuan's toys. I will find him soon enough." Forcystus sighed, returning his attention to the window. "I expect this to go smoothly now that we have the culprits in custody."

"Yessir. It will."

"Then you may leave."

Raine saluted and exited the room, Lloyd following closely behind. He stared at her feet, clicking along the metal floor, and felt sick to his stomach. He wondered if it was merely excitement at the prospect of finishing his current project—as soon as the mana cannon was functional, Forcystus said they would eliminate Kvar next. And that meant he'd be able to see his mother again. It was a goal that had seemed so far away just a short time ago, but he could see it slowly appear on the horizon, blurred beyond his more temporary objective.

"Lloyd."

He looked up, unaware that Raine had stopped and turned toward him. "What?"

"What are you looking so pained about?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

She looked quickly up and down the hall before taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "I'm famished. We can go find something to eat."

"Okay."

She dropped his hand when the footsteps of the afternoon guard echoed through the halls. "I'll get you a drink. In celebration of apprehending those responsible for our mechanical failures."

"Sure…"

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me what you're thinking about."

"Well…" He bit his lip, editing his words. "This place… the Desians, everywhere, it's all just so full of backstabbing."

"And this surprises you?"

"I know it shouldn't. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if I've chosen the right side."

She led him down the hall. "I think we all wonder that sometimes. No matter what side we're on. If that question never emerges in your head, you're probably an idiot."

Lloyd laughed, slightly. "Everyone's a goddamn traitor. Forcystus betrayed Rodyle, who betrayed Yggdrasill. Then these guys betray Forcystus. Yuan's got his own rebellion going, and now the rest of the Desians are turning on him. Zelos and Sheena betrayed Yuan by siding with us. Magnius betrayed Cruxis. My father betrayed me, and I accidentally betrayed my mother. Gods, only Kvar is loyal to his cause, and I hate Kvar most of all."

Raine lowered her eyes thoughtfully. "It's what happens when you have so many people with so many ideas of how the world should work. Disparate people beget disparate viewpoints, which in turn sows discord."

"So how do we solve it?"

"Well… Yggdrasill has the idea that the only way to overcome differences is to make us all the same. He wants everyone to devolve into mindless, soulless automatons."

"Like the angels in Welgaia."

"Yes. Forcystus thinks we can achieve peace by separating. I happen to agree with him."

"Why can't we just learn to get along with one another?"

Raine almost laughed. Lloyd could see her sardonic smile spread, but she held it in. "Sometimes I wonder if you've even met humans." When they reached the door to the mess hall, she pushed it open. "You must remember, not everyone is like you. In fact, I'm fairly sure no one is like you."

In the crowded mess hall, they ate in silence, devouring their meager meal with little enthusiasm.

Later that night, when Raine tore herself away from her work to sneak into his room, he found her presence more daunting than comforting.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, when he received her tender caresses with unexpected enervation.

He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. "Raine… I don't want you to go. To Derris-Kharlan, I mean."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I know. But I believe it's for the best."

"But I don't understand…"

"Understand what?"

"I don't get why you would spend this much time with me, if you're only going to leave me in the end. I don't understand why you would teach me to read, teach me to operate the mana cannon, show me both worlds… I don't know why you would lie here with me like this, if nothing will ever come out of it?"

She smiled. "And what do you expect to come out of it, Lloyd? Marriage? Children?" She lay a hand over his mouth before he could answer. "My advice to you is to forget me when this is all done. I will be far away, you will move on with life. You'll have your desert back, you'll have your mother back. You'll be busy enough. You won't miss me."

"But I will. I'll miss you horribly."

"Lloyd…" He felt her breath rise and fall, her skin against his. "I know parting is hard, but it's something we all need to learn how to do." She hugged him close. "If there's one thing my brother taught me, it's that you have to love someone as much as you possibly can before the gods rip them away from you."

He held her, locking his hands together around her waist, as if he expected her words to spring into reality. He swore he could almost see the long, translucent, spindly fingers of fate reaching down through the roof to pluck her away from him.

He swore he would never lose another loved one to the artifices of the world around him. Never, ever again. He would retake what was his, and he would keep Raine close to him, or he would die trying.

* * *

Pronyma found Kvar sitting hunched before a screen in his dark surveillance room. The other guards had long since gone to other duties, or retreated to the comfort of their barracks. After all, the hour was closer to dawn than dusk. Kvar should've taken a rest hours ago, so he could at least be somewhat cognizant when she discussed their plans. But here he was, glued to a tiny screen, eyes wide, mouth open slightly, both disgusted and intrigued by whatever transpired on the other end of the security feed.

"Kvar," she started, crossing her arms. He did not look up at her. "What in hell's name are you doing?"

"I am observing two animals copulate."

She leaned over his shoulder and glanced at the screen. She drew back, skin prickling. Of course Kvar would spend his spare time doing something as heinously voyeuristic as watching his own prisoners take comfort in one another's bodies.

The thought repulsed her. She turned, preferring to continue the conversation with her back to him. "Disgusting."

"Indeed it is," Kvar answered, almost gleefully. "Absolutely revolting. But they are making me another Angelus Project subject, as far as I know. I'll need to observe her health and activities in the next while before I can draw an conclusion as to the viability of that outcome."

"I am not here to talk about your pet project," she growled. "I am here to discuss Forcystus."

"Ah, yes. Forcystus. I haven't thought of him in a while."

"I know. That's the problem. Word has it he's almost completed the mana cannon. It is only a matter of time before he uses it on us."

She heard Kvar scoot away from the screen. "There is no need to rush, Lady Pronyma." He must've stood, since she heard the distinct clicking of his boots on the concrete floor. "Stay here, assist me in fortifying my ranch, and there is no way they're getting through our defenses."

"I beg to differ, Kvar. I find it an abhorrent idea to sit around and wait while Forcystus amasses enough power to topple Cruxis." She sneered at him. "In case you've forgotten, the resurrection of Martel takes precedence over your little ant farm."

"Of course I know that." Kvar's glance sent shivers down her spine. "But he will no doubt need my little 'ant farm' in the very near future. He'll need something unbelievably powerful to run his cannon—something as powerful, I would guess, as my Angelus exsphere. No, he will arrive here in due time. And we will not give him the opportunity to use my project at all. We will annihilate him before he can get his hands on her."

"You do not know how powerful Forcystus has become. I believe he already has a viable power source for his weapon."

"How are you so sure of it?"

Pronyma couldn't help but smile, dangling the information just a little above Kvar's reach. "Let's just say I have a few birds perched near his nest."

Kvar narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell me."

Oh, this was precious. Watching Kvar switch from defiant to supplicant in a matter of seconds elevated her mood drastically. She decided to prolong the conversation. "If you'd paid attention to something other than your Angelus Project, you'd know all about it."

"Tell me," he repeated, more forcefully.

"Promise to lend me half your force to mount an attack on the remote island ranch, and perhaps I will."

"Perhaps will simply not suffice, Pronyma."

She smiled. "Then consider the information classified."

"Fine, take them. But I expect them to be returned in full force."

"Oh, yes. I will return them. I will return with Forcystus' head. I will dismantle the cannon and reestablish order in the ranch. I will retrieve the original Angelus Exsphere and present it to Lord Yggdrasill. I will return here with the corpse of Kratos' son and make him bury it." The look on Kvar's face as the realization hit him made her grin all the wider. "It's a pity the boy was hiding under your nose this entire time. Perhaps you should learn to pay closer attention to your surroundings."

Kvar grit his teeth, only the slightest hints of rage crossing his features. It was enough for Pronyma. He ran his fingers through his slicked hair, and pursed his lips. He tightened his frown, brow furrowing. "You shall have your force. I will give you whatever you need. But bring me back the exsphere. And bring me L033 alive. I still have some unfinished business with him."

"You're getting awfully comfortable giving orders to me," Pronyma said. "And I have no reason to bring him back alive. In fact, perhaps I won't." She put her hand over her mouth to cover her laughter. "I wonder who will weep more, you or Kratos?"

Kvar's fists clenched at his sides. "_My_ _Lady_," he hissed. "I humbly request that you deliver him unexpired." It seemed to almost hurt him, uttering those words.

Pronyma's smile faded, her heart light. "For you, Kvar, I will do this favor. But you will owe me a great debt. It is so hard to keep humans alive and well for transport." She turned to go. "They're just so fragile. There's no telling what will happen to him."

She left Kvar dangling there, at the end of uncertainty, as she floated through the doorway, light as a feather. She could only hope she'd keep him guessing.

* * *

"Hey, Lloyd!"

Zelos emerged from the shadows like some sort of incongruously peppy wight. Before Lloyd could avoid his grasp, he slipped his arm around his shoulders and tugged him along the hall. "What do you want?" he asked eventually, when it was clear that Zelos was not going to leave him alone.

"I was just thinking about a great card game I haven't taught you yet."

"Not now, Zelos," Lloyd sighed. "I don't have time." It seemed to Lloyd that the Tethe'allan Chosen and his bodyguard did nothing all day but sit around and waste time. He would've liked to have some time to waste himself, but he couldn't help but feel a little pissed that Zelos would have the imprudence to walk up and attempt to distract him from his duties.

"You gonna go break some more stuff on the cannon?" Zelos smiled, latching onto him like a tick. He couldn't shake the Chosen off, so he just let him follow him down the hall toward the reactor room.

"I'm not breaking anything," Lloyd said. "We got the guy who was. So everything should go smoothly from now on."

"Well, we can only hope so." Zelos' tone was frivolous, nonchalant. Lloyd glanced up at the Chosen, at his flickering eyes, his glinting smile.

"Don't you have something better to do with your time than bother me?" he asked.

Zelos laughed. "I see the Lieutenant's sour attitude is rubbing off on you." He turned, waving to Lloyd behind his shoulder. "You get back to your joyless engineering. I'm off to have a little fun with my life." Zelos paused at the end of the hallway. "Don't work too hard, Lloyd. You never know when you'll straight-up drop dead from it."

Lloyd made his way down the stairs to the elevator that would bring him to the mana reactor. He tried to shake off Zelos' last words, but they echoed in his head, leaving an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he was working too hard. He hadn't played oud in weeks, he hadn't sat down with his reading in just as long, unless, of course, it was pertinent to the upkeep of the mana cannon.

But he didn't mind. It left him no time to think of his mother, of his father, of his plans for the future. He did not have to think of the possibility of Yuan's arrival at the ranch, he did not need to worry about the fate of the prisoners who had been sent afloat in the calm ocean the day Forcystus set them free. He didn't have to think of anything beyond the immediate function of the mana cannon. He could recite from memory all the electrodynamic laws he'd learned just the past few days, he knew all the weights and proportions of all the disparate parts that came seamlessly together to form the cannon itself. He could find his way around the computer apparatus that controlled its movement and power. But he couldn't remember what he'd had for breakfast that morning. He couldn't remember the last time he slept well, he didn't know what day it was, much less what month. He was unsure if he'd grown older during his long work on the cannon, or if time had stayed still.

He didn't care to know. He didn't want to have to judge his own actions as right or wrong, didn't have to lie awake at night punishing himself for his mistakes, or trembling in dread of the mistakes he'd make in the future. And he didn't have to, when he was alone with the tubes and wires and signals and dials of the cannon and its various auxiliary apparatuses. His brain had a limited capacity—he preferred to fill it with things that did not worry him so much. Things that did not remind him of his own moral failings.

When he got to the mana reactor, he found Raine at the end of a walkway, overlooking her cabal of human workers, busy repairing the parts that had suffered sabotage recently. Nothing had gone wrong since the apprehension of the two culprits, so they shouldn't expect anything else to fall apart before they tested the cannon again the next day.

Raine heard him approach, turned and lowered her viewing spectacles. "Everything seems to be in order here," she smiled with relief.

"That's good," he replied. He had to keep himself from embracing her. He hadn't seen her in a good twenty-four hours and it nearly killed him. He tried to explain to himself why he felt this way, but he was utterly at a loss. He wondered if she tried as hard as he did to keep her affection from showing when under the gaze of other Desians. "What do we have to do today?"

"We have to make sure these repairs go as planned," she said, crossing her arms. "I have to check this place from top to bottom, to make sure everything is working perfectly. I expect our test run shall go smoothly."

Lloyd smiled. "So, when the repairs are done, do you wanna take a break?"

She seemed to reel from the suggestion. But he could see the cogs of her thoughts turning behind her eyes as she considered the possibility. "Perhaps. We need to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow, when Forcystus is breathing down our necks about the whole affair." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why I didn't settle for a softer science."

Lloyd shrugged. "You didn't have much of a choice. You ended up here the same way I did."

A thin smile tickled her lips as she lowered her eyes again to the work going on below her. "Extraneous circumstances. I know." She glanced over her shoulder at him, and it suddenly struck him how tired she looked. Dark rings sagged under her eyes, the corners of her mouth turned down as if she struggled to keep them up. He walked up to her and touched her elbow, lightly, quickly, so no one would notice. She sighed. "I think a break might be a good idea. Perhaps I should get some rest. It's a big day tomorrow."

"It is," Lloyd agreed. "Let's work until the afternoon, then let's go get some snacks. We'll sneak some drinks into Zelos' room. He says he has a card game to teach us."

"That sounds perfectly acceptable."

Work went smoothly, finished up early, and Lloyd left the mana reactor in a much better mood than he had entered. They stopped by the canteen, and Lloyd pilfered some snacks while Raine sweet-talked the man behind the counter to give her a few bottles of whisky usually on reserve for the higher ranking officers. They slinked toward their quarters, guilty but satisfied.

They found Zelos and Sheena already halfway through a game, yelling at one another over the table. They both turned when the door opened and in came the two joyless engineers, toting food and liquor. The pair received them with open arms, and they played until long after the sun set behind the shining sea.

* * *

Forcystus leaned back in his chair, feet crossed over his desk, telling himself to go to sleep. He knew he should've made his way to his private chamber hours ago, but he couldn't force himself to get up and leave his office. Not since he was expecting a call—

His communicator screeched, and with a skip of his heartbeat, he answered. All of his late nights paid off for this small moment of ultimate satisfaction.

"Sir, we have Ka-Fai in custody."

"Just him?"

"A few of his soldiers surrendered and came with us. Including his right hand man."

"Good. Bring him in. I'll clear you for the upper levels."

Forcystus put down his communicator and pressed a few buttons on an apparatus on the nearest wall. He stilled his hand, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. He still didn't know if what was left of the Renegades would add their power to his own. He didn't know if he'd end the night disposing of Yuan's body, or shaking his hand in comradeship. It all depended on these next few moments, this pivotal bleating commonly referred to as "negotiation."

He collapsed back into his chair, holding his forehead. Compromise had always been his strong point. He'd learned to live with humans because of it, and now he was losing it over talking to another half-elf. He supposed he'd simply grown too used to violence rather than conversation. It was the only language Desians spoke, for the most part, and he knew he'd have to find fluency in it if he was going to take down Pronyma and Kvar. He considered himself lucky that Rodyle had been so easy to deceive, and that Magnius had fallen under the guiles of his own hubris. The remaining two would be more difficult.

Yuan, he hoped, would be more willing to speak than to fight. The man had a reputation, after all. Yggdrasill had once said Yuan was one of those people who only consider fighting a last resort. Forcystus had been young then, new to the Desian ranks, but still a distinguished warrior and ambassador of his race. He wondered if Yggdrasill had been lying then, like he'd been lying for so many years about his mythical Golden Age of Half-Elves.

The door to his office slid open, and he stood to greet his soldiers. A weak figure dangled between them, bluish hair tangled with red. His head hung limp, but twitched restlessly, as the guards prodded him awake.

"Where are the others?" Forcystus asked.

"We put them in holding cells, sir."

"Good." Forcystus bent down and looked into Yuan's bloodstained face. One eye had swollen to ludicrous proportions, the other struggled to open. "Yuan, it's been a long time," he said. "You look like shit." Yuan swallowed, audibly, with difficulty. He didn't reply, so Forcystus figured he'd better continue. "You've been putting up a good fight against Yggdrasill, but I'm afraid here is where you pass the torch. The Renegades are more of a nuisance than an asset at this point." Forcystus stood, motioning for his guards to relax their grips on Yuan's arms. "But I don't really want to kill you. I'd rather talk." He sat down on his desk. "I think it's the perfect time for a long overdue conversation."

Yuan groaned, still unintelligible. Forcystus wondered if he'd suffered some sort of brain damage in whatever struggle took place to bring him here.

"I know I should end you and your little rebellion right here, but I think we'd be better off working together." Yuan lifted his eyes, life returning to them. Perhaps the man thought Forcystus was still loyal to Yggdrasill. Perhaps not. "Your rheiards will no doubt prove a prime asset to our cause. Moving between worlds without the Tower will be an indispensable advantage." Forcystus sighed. "But then, if I take your machinery and your base, what then do I need you for? Give me one reason I shouldn't toss you to the sharks."

Yuan took a weak, haggard breath. "Because…" he started. "You need… my knowledge. Only I know how they work. I shut them down before we fled… the base." He stopped to take a deep breath.

"A fair argument, Yuan." Forcystus crossed his arms. "I am a peaceable man. I don't intend to kill anyone with whom I can ally myself. You included."

Yuan grimaced, probably at some unseen injury. "Then you'd want to keep Kratos alive as well."

"I do not care either way. Although I suspect if I want to get rid of Yggdrasill, I'll have to get rid of Kratos first. It will be easiest just to kill him, don't you agree? Given his mana acts as Origin's seal, I can just cut him down and Yggdrasill will fall shortly afterward."

"He… doesn't need to die," Yuan gasped. "There's a chance… he'll come to our side. If we find his son."

"I'm far ahead of you there, Yuan. But Lloyd told me the last time you tried to coerce Kratos onto your side, he ignored you. You sat there with your blade at his son's neck and he didn't care."

"There were… unexpected complications," Yuan said. He lifted his head, steadying himself. "Keep him alive. He will be far more valuable to you than I am."

"What makes you say that?"

"Mithos still trusts him. He can get… close." Yuan stopped to catch his breath. "I cannot do that. I've been marked a traitor from the beginning. But Kratos…"

"I see." Forcystus smiled. "I will consider it. But unless you can come up with a way for him to live through the release of Origin's seal, I'm afraid that outcome is impossible." Yuan hung his head, out of breath. He didn't have the strength to reply, so Forcystus slipped off his desk. "You've always had the reputation of being too merciful for your own good. Do you know why you've failed to bring down Yggdrasill so far?" He waited for the reply that wouldn't come. "Do you know why both you and Kratos failed in all your endeavors? Because you lack subtlety. But I don't. I have wiggled my way up the ranks and seized the mana cannon. I will successfully bring down that tyrant and his absurd Age of Lifeless Beings. I'll blast him into space, if that's what it takes."

"Don't." The forcefulness of Yuan's protest took Forcystus by surprise.

"Don't? That's your famous mercy again, out to destroy you."

"No… don't hit Mithos… let Kratos and me take care of Mithos. You… you must aim the cannon at the Tree. It will grow—"

Forcystus rolled his eyes. "Always with this goddamn Tree of yours, Yuan. Do you ever learn? It's gone the way of all things, Martel included. It's long dead. There's nothing you can do to bring it back."

"But—"

"If you're going to work with us, there are a few things we should agree on. Where to fire the cannon is one of them. And since I seem to be the one in charge of the weapon, I think it's not unreasonable to assume I get to call the shots." He waved his hand. "Help him down to his cell. Make sure he gets the attention he needs. I'll speak to him more tomorrow."

"Yessir."

The guards tightened their grips on Yuan and hauled him to the door. He did not resist. Perhaps he was too tired, perhaps he'd lost hope, perhaps he knew it was for the best if they got along. When Forcystus found himself alone in his quiet office, he picked up the communicator and sent a message to Lieutenant Sage. She would need to contact Yuan's remaining engineers and discuss logistics of rheiard use with them. And she would no doubt pass the news onto Lloyd that Yuan would likely become a familiar face around the base. And then it was quite possible they'd have to keep those two from each other's throats.

Forcystus shook his head. _Leadership is just lauded babysitting,_ he thought irritably. _It probably doesn__'__t pay as much, either._

In the silent dawn, he couldn't help but laugh, alone, and wonder briefly if he'd gone mad.


	50. The Day of the Test

"You're unusually passionate about the mana cannon today," Raine said, crossing her arms. She narrowed her eyes at the Chosen, who had decided to tag along the day of the second test.

Zelos shrugged. "Hey, I missed out on all the action last time, and some exciting shit went down."

"That is true," Raine sighed. She had to admit that their record of testing days seemed to be dramatic, at least. Perhaps a man like Zelos would not like to miss out on the carnage. But Raine was sure that today things would go exceptionally better than they had last time. There would be no betrayal, no murder, no systemic malfunctions. Today would go excellently.

"Let's get this show on the road," Sheena said, almost cheerfully. Raine wondered if Forcystus had told her about the recapture of her previous employer. She would no doubt be forced to meet Yuan sometime in the future, and perhaps face chastisement for her defection. It wasn't like Raine was going to bother to investigate; what happened between the assassin and Yuan was none of her business.

She crossed her arms and nodded to the chief engineer, who in turn nodded to the men and women at the controls. Forcystus stood in his usual place, by the wide window, looking out over the length of the cannon. Lloyd lingered beside him, eagerly pressed against the glass, awaiting the moment of truth, the moment when he would find out if his hard work paid off. Raine could understand the strange mix of eagerness and dread that must've been coursing through him. She could barely hold herself still.

"Ready," one of the operators said from the control board.

"Start her up," the chief engineer said. He had been enthusiastic lately, since they had apprehended the saboteurs and fixed the cannon completely. Despite his utter lack of assistance in that endeavor, he still seemed proud of himself for quelling the threat.

Buttons clicked, apparatuses beeped, and the cannon's massive silver barrel shifted toward the sky. With its base at the command tower, it stretched hundreds of feet across the ocean, metal plating glinting in the sunlight. Raine could not help but feel a swell of pride in her chest. She knew it was going to work. It would take out Yggdrasill, it would clear the way for her and her race to ascend to a safe haven. It was the salvation of all half-elves, and she had helped build it. She didn't know what else she'd accomplished in her life that could compare.

Her heart fluttered as the cannon gathered power. A deep rumbling shook the room, and a small sphere of light gathered at the tip of the barrel, obscured by the haze of midday sunlight. She held her breath, waiting for the sphere to widen, to thicken in intensity, to rise the same way it had the first time they tested the cannon, before the reactor had broken. Her fists clenched by her sides as the rumbling intensified, and she bit her lip. She expected them to reach maximum power any moment now, and then it would be over, they would've succeeded, and they could move on…

She glanced to Lloyd and saw him looking at her, a worried frown on his face. She swore to herself and beckoned him over with a small tilt of her head. He scurried over to her and whispered in her ear, pointing out the window. "Look at that plate, halfway down the shaft."

She followed his finger, squinting at the bright reflection of sunlight down the barrel. She could make out a twisted glint of metal where one side of a plate had come off the main body of the machine. She swallowed a lump in her throat. _Just what I need today_. She glanced up to Forcystus. He watched them with his steady, knowing gaze.

"Lloyd," Raine hissed. His inquisitive brown eyes widened at her tone. "To the left is a door to the balcony. You can get to the cannon from there. We will hold the energy level as is, so you will be in no danger. Go out there and nail down that plating before it flies off and this whole test turns into a catastrophe."

"You think it's an accident or not?" Lloyd asked.

"I don't know. At this point, it doesn't matter. If we still have some saboteurs on our hands then we'll deal with them later. Now, for the love of Martel, _fix that damn plate_."

Lloyd nodded and dashed off silently, grabbing a crowbar and the omnipresent toolbox from the control panel, and slipped out onto the balcony. Raine watched Forcystus' red eye follow him out, and she stepped up to him, anxious.

"It seems some technical problems have arisen," she whispered to him.

"Do you suppose our vandal is back?"

"Or wasn't caught in the first place." Raine sighed. "Forgive us, sir. We assure you this will be a successful test. I sent Lloyd out on the barrel to see what's wrong. Until then, we have to halt the start-up. Unless we want to fry him."

Forcystus crossed his arms. "I don't suppose Yuan found the time to sneak out of his cell and destroy our cannon."

"It's not likely," she said. As far as she knew, Yuan had stayed safely and quietly in his cell since his capture the previous night. His presence had caused no disorder—even Lloyd himself had received the news with a half-interested "Oh." No, Raine was sure Yuan had not been the one to pull up the plating. She was leaning more toward the theory that they had failed to completely quell the little rebellion they had on their hands. But if Lloyd managed to screw the parts back on the cannon before the test ended, they could worry about the betrayer in their midst a little later on.

"So, looks like some shit's going down again," Zelos said, smiling. "I knew I wasn't gonna miss out on all the action."

Raine did not appreciate his commentary. She turned to him and shushed him loudly, before settling her gaze back to Lloyd, who slowly made his way across the barrel of the massive cannon, steadying himself with each step. She grit her teeth, hoping he wouldn't slip and tumble down into the deep ocean far below him. She wasn't certain if he'd survive that fall—but he was surefooted and determined, and he made it to the bent plate without any trouble. He squatted down, tools in hand and started to fiddle with the metal. The rumbling died down, the sphere of light dulled at the tip of the cannon, and the machine stilled. Lloyd began his work, safe from the bursts of power that shuddered down the length of it.

"What is that thing?" Sheena asked quietly, striding up beside Zelos. She squinted into the bright sunlight, shading her eyes with her hand. Raine followed her gaze, trying to make out the small black dot that had risen behind Lloyd. He continued his work, focused only on the repairs. He didn't seem to notice the distant shadow behind him.

"I don't know," Raine said, turning to Forcystus. "Sir, something appeared on the horizon. Any guesses as to what it is?"

Forcystus grimaced. "I have a few." He glanced down at the workers by the screens. "Did you pick it up?" he asked.

"Yessir," one replied. "It's large. Very large."

"How large?"

"On the same order of magnitude as our cannon, sir. Maybe twice as big."

"Shit," Forcystus muttered under his breath. "Pronyma."

Raine went cold. She had to get Lloyd out of the line of fire, before—

"Protect the cannon at all costs!" Forcystus stepped away from Raine and jumped down to the workers at the screens. "Call up all units. It seems the first Grand Cardinal is paying us a visit."

"Yessir," one soldier said, fingers typing up a storm on his monitor.

"Get the boats out there. We need to shoot her down before she gets to the cannon."

"Dispatching all naval units."

Forcystus turned to Raine, and his one eye went wide. Raine looked over her shoulder, stepped back and scrambled to steady her rifle. She didn't have time to aim and shoot before she saw Zelos, red hair flying, drawing his sword. With a smile and an almost mischievous glint in his eye, the Chosen turned on the person nearest him.

"Nothing personal, honey," he said, and thrust the blade into Sheena's gut. Her eyes went wide, and she stood in shock, a red stain spreading from her stomach. She reached for him as he pulled the blade from her and stepped away. She collapsed to her knees, mouthing something, but no noise came out.

Raine managed to get her rifle against her shoulder and pointed it at Zelos, steadying herself. Everything clicked into place in her mind—the technical failures, the missing parts, the dents in equipment so high up you'd almost have to _fly_ to get to them—she narrowed her eye, training her sights to Zelos' forehead. But before she could pull the trigger, Forcystus was beside her.

"Don't shoot! We still need him!"

Raine cringed, resisting with no small effort the desire to blow Zelos' head off. The Chosen smiled, stepped backward, his form consumed in an envelope of light. _Shit,_ she said to herself, when another figure emerged from that hazy glow. She swallowed, trying to keep herself calm, and waited for Forcystus' command. To her abject dismay, he stayed silent as Pronyma stepped from the light, smiling widely.

"Chosen," she said, not taking her eyes off her rival Cardinal. "Retrieve the Angelus Project for me."

"You got it," Zelos smiled, before kicking up his heel and jumping forward. Raine forced herself to hold her fire as a bright red glare burst from his back. He twisted his body, petal-like wings sprouting, and disappeared in a flash of orange light. Raine reeled, steadying her rifle, keeping it trained on Pronyma.

She wanted to leave Pronyma to Forcystus and rush out after Zelos, chase him out onto the cannon and plant a bullet in his back before he got to Lloyd. But she knew she was needed here, with her commander.

_Keep yourself alive, Lloyd,_ she thought fervently. She looked at Forcystus, then back at Pronyma. The woman raised her open palm, an oval of blue light appearing between her fingers. Raine gasped, lowered her weapon, and grabbed Sheena's arm, dragging her behind a control apparatus just as the light exploded around them. She glanced over at Forcystus, and he nodded at her before raising his arm cannon and charging it. The room went white with a burst of light, and the air crackled with electricity. Raine steeled herself against the hair-raising surge of energy and lay Sheena down beside her, under the apparatus, out of Pronyma's line of fire.

"Sheena, can you hear me?" she hissed. She didn't have time for this. She should be out on the cannon, protecting Lloyd from that goddamn traitor.

"Why…" Sheena opened her mouth, and some blood dripped down the side of her cheek. "Why would he…"

"Stop talking," Raine said. "Let me look at this." She ripped Sheena's obi and opened her shirt, looking at the slow spread of blood. In either modesty or an attempt to keep her own blood inside, Sheena covered her exposed skin, and Raine had to yank her hands away from the wound. "Doesn't look good." An explosion of light and energy on the other side of the room interrupted her. She heard a scream from Pronyma—Forcystus must've landed a hit. _And here I am, stuck playing doctor_. She wanted to lift her gun and end this fight, but she couldn't leave the woman to bleed out, betrayed and abandoned on the floor. She was above leaving a comrade to die, even if that comrade happened to be human.

She sighed, smacked a red button on the nearest apparatus before applying pressure on the wound. "Sheena, are you still with me?"

"Y… es…" she croaked.

"A medic will arrive soon. You're going to be fine."

"Am… I…" Sheena forced a weak, cynical smile. "Sorry… I didn't see it coming." Another explosion made Raine duck closer to Sheena, covering her.

"I'm equally sorry in that regard," Raine replied. She reached back to her waist and pulled off her belt. She bunched up Sheena's ripped clothing and folded it a few times over itself. "Hold this over your wound." She did, weakly, with a blood-covered hand. Raine wound the belt over Sheena and pulled the makeshift gauze tight. "Look, Sheena," she said. "Look at me."

Sheena raised her eyes, glazed over in pain.

"You're going to be all right. The medics will be here in no time at all. But first we've got to get rid of this pest." Another shot from Pronyma sent a bundle of wires falling to the floor, spurting sparks. "Don't move."

"All right." Sheena leaned against the apparatus, holding her wound. Raine glanced down at her one last time before raising her rifle to her shoulder and surveying the room.

Pronyma floated at the center, armor glowing, a ring of blue light surrounding her. A few guards stood around her, shooting uselessly at her ethereal shield, bullets dropping from the circular metal like dead flies. Raine bit her lip, wondering if she should drop her rifle and go after the Cardinal with her fists, for all the good bullets were doing them. Pronyma spun, arm raised, and summoned a spear of red light, throwing it in Forcystus' direction. He rolled aside, arm cannon positioned across his knee. He knelt, tense, waiting for the firearm to charge, as Pronyma spun toward him. Raine gasped, unthinking, and jumped forward, raising her gun. She knew she couldn't take down Pronyma with one shot, knew her bullets would simply fly off the shield around her torso, so she waited until the woman raised her arm, conjuring another powerful spell.

Raine narrowed one eye, taking a deep breath. She told herself this was well within her ability, that she had shot much smaller targets from much farther away. She wouldn't flinch, she wouldn't hesitate. Just as a thin, bright spear of light appeared in the air above the Cardinal's palm, Raine pulled the trigger.

Pronyma screamed as the bullet tore through her hand, taking a few fingers with it. She staggered, the spear of light disappeared, and she drew back her blood-soaked arm in surprise. Raine lowered her smoking rifle and sprang forward, landing beside Forcystus. He lay his arm over his cannon, steadying it for the final shot. Raine kept her gun on Pronyma, and let Forcystus lean on her as he prepared himself for the recoil. She clenched her muscles, staying firm as his cannon reached max capacity.

"Steady," he hissed. She steeled herself for the shot, but when it came, she couldn't help reeling backward, ears ringing. Bright light blinded her, and she flinched, struggling to keep her gun aimed at Pronyma should she survive the shot. The energy from Forcystus' cannon hit the Cardinal dead center, sending a burst of energy out from her. The large window separating the room from the cannon shattered in an explosion of blue light and glass shards. Raine shut her eyes against the shower of debris, and an electric wind threatened to blow her away. She shifted her weight to her back leg, leaning on Forcystus to keep herself from flying to the other side of the room. When she opened her eyes again, she saw only a cloud of dust where Pronyma had been.

She stood, keeping her gun ready, and looked around. The mist started to clear, the wind blowing it through the empty window frame, out over the sea. Raine squinted through the dust and saw a splatter of blood across the floor, but didn't loosen her grip on her rifle. Forcystus stood beside her, cannon at the ready, and his eyes followed the trail of blood to where the body of the Cardinal lay.

What was left of Pronyma did not move, it posed no threat. So Raine turned her attention to the action on the top of the cannon. She rushed to the shattered window, resting the barrel of her gun on its sill. She put Pronyma and Sheena out of her mind and focused on staring through her sights at the two figures dancing around one another atop the cannon. She swallowed, trying to keep her hands from trembling.

Lloyd, armed only with a crowbar, attempted to hold his own against his winged attacker. He dashed from side to side, avoiding Zelos' skilled slashes, parrying when he could, dodging when he could. His feet slid along the metal barrel, occasionally slipping. He stumbled around Zelos, trying to keep his balance, while the Chosen leisurely danced around him, flitting on his floral wings.

Far off, under the heavy shadow of the massive warship, Forcystus' gunboats swarmed, cannons ready. They shelled the warship with a cacophony of booms, as Pronyma's massive dreadnaught returned fire in a column of yellow light. The sea steamed and curled with white foam where the beam entered the water, the tumultuous swell swallowing a few of Forcystus' ships.

Raine did not have time to pay attention to the naval skirmish. She instead focused her gun on Zelos. Her finger touched the trigger, and she narrowed one eye at him.

"Hold your fire, Lieutenant," Forcystus said. To the other soldiers, "Someone go out there and get that damned Chosen back!"

She grit her teeth, watching the Chosen shove Lloyd backward, down the large metal cylinder. He rolled to his feet, barely regaining his balance as Zelos moved in on him, sword raised. Raine took in a sharp breath when she saw the sword tip make contact with Lloyd's face, drawing a spray of blood. She tensed, gripping the forestock tightly. A few soldiers climbed from the balcony to the ladders on the side of the cannon, but they moved so slowly, far too slowly to get to Lloyd before—

"I have a clear shot, sir," she said.

"We need him alive," Forcystus replied. "Hold your fire."

Raine began to sweat. Lloyd clutched his face, smeared with blood, and swung the crowbar wildly at Zelos. He twisted out of the way, floating easily on his orange wings, the silver blur of his sword reaching out toward Lloyd. It took all Raine's strength to keep her hands from shaking. Forcystus stood silent beside her, unmoving, unwavering.

"Permission to fire, sir," she pushed, knowing it would come back to haunt her later.

"Are you listening, Lieutenant? We need the Chosen to open the Tower."

Raine swallowed, keeping her sights on Zelos' head, knowing it would only take her a fraction of a second to save Lloyd. A fraction of a second and an irreparable act of treason. "We need the Angelus Exphere more. If Lloyd dies, the exsphere disappears into the sea. Then we can't fire the cannon at all."

"Wait, Lieutenant."

When Zelos landed a solid kick to Lloyd's stomach, Raine couldn't hold in her gasp. Lloyd flew back, tumbling over the side of the cannon, gripping the loose metal sheet. He barely hung on as Zelos landed above him, laying one foot on his fingers. The crowbar tumbled off the side of the machine, spinning slowly as it fell down into the hungry ocean. Raine saw Lloyd's fingers begin to slip as Zelos stomped down on his hands.

"Sir, permission to fire!" she almost screamed. She silenced herself, trying to keep her breath steady, fingers twitching. She did all she could to keep her eyes from blurring with tears. "Please," she whispered, not softly enough to escape Forcystus' hearing. She did not take her eyes off Zelos and Lloyd, but she could feel Forcystus' gaze bore into her, dismantling her to the core.

She heard him sigh slightly. "Fire at w—"

He hadn't even finished before she pulled the trigger. A bullet screamed through the air and hit its target dead-on. A red hole appeared in Zelos' forehead, blood spraying into the air behind him. He wavered, eyes wide, as if he expected to recover from this blow. His legs took a moment to go limp, his wings dimmed, his posture deceptively calm. He stood still for a long, agonizing second before he fell back, tumbling off the side of the cannon. His wings evaporated into the bright daylight as he soared downward, toward the ocean, arms limp at his sides. After too long of a fall, he hit the water with a sickening splash.

Forcystus stood, barking orders to his inferiors. He walked over to them, calmly, regaining his unwavering authority, and focused his attention on strategies to take down the warship. The soldiers sent to retrieve the Chosen turned on their heels and made their way back, leaving one man to help pull Lloyd safely back to the top of the canon. Raine lowered her rifle, eyes wide as the commands around her flew past her like the slow, meaningless whispers of words spoken in dreams.

"Should we fire the mana cannon at it, sir?" asked one of the officers.

"No. We've only got one shot. Two at most. Save them for Yggdrasill."

"Sir."

"We're going to take her men out the old fashioned way."

While he issued commands, pointing this way and that, Raine leaned out over the window and called out to Lloyd, who with the help of the Desian soldier was scrambling up the side of the cannon, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.

He stumbled back toward them, holding his side, bleeding heavily. When he limped to the window, she leaned out and pulled him in, helping him over the broken glass and holding him close. His cheek was split wide open from mouth to ear, deep enough to see his teeth, and a rivulet of blood dripped from his side. He let her lay him down on the floor, exhausted and shocked.

"Why… how…" Lloyd said, more blood than air coming from his mouth. Looking too closely at his split cheek made Raine slightly ill, but she still pinched it together, until the medics showed up.

"Don't talk, Lloyd. You'll make it worse."

He gripped her wrists, squeezing her when the pain intensified. A couple medics, freshly covered with what Raine assumed was the blood of the previously injured, knelt down beside Lloyd. "Let me help you," she said. She had stitched up a wound before—it shouldn't take long, and it would let the real doctors take a look at Lloyd's ribs. They acquiesced, since the medical team being short-staffed was an inevitable side effect of a battle.

"You examine his torso. He doesn't need a pretty face, but he needs his organs."

"Yes ma'am."

She leaned over Lloyd, needle in hand, and told him to stay still as she sewed his cheek shut. He sat paralyzed, his hand squeezing her knee at the pain, and he occasionally let out a few hisses when she pricked the needle in and pulled it out again. She secured the last stitch, pressed some gauze to it and ignored Lloyd's pained groans. When she was sure he was all right, she stood, leaving his care to the professionals, and returned to Forcystus' side.

He folded his hands behind his back, issuing order after strategic order. He seamlessly wove one line of attack into another, and Raine couldn't help but admire the elegance of his gunboats' movements.

Leaderless and outnumbered, Pronyma's warship eventually fell. Two gunners, with two lucky, simultaneous shots, destroyed the cockpit, sending the massive warship crashing into the ocean with a colossal spray of seawater. The wave that resulted from the ship's capsize overturned a few of Forcystus' boats, and threatened to soak the cannon and send water down its shaft.

But the wave subsided, and for the first time in what seemed like hours, the room fell quiet. The worst of the injured were hastily taken away to the infirmary, Sheena included, and Raine took a moment to get herself breathing steadily again. She stepped up beside Forcystus and looked out over the length of the cannon, eyes wandering to the spot where Zelos had fallen into the water. Lloyd had managed to pull himself back onto his feet, gauze on his cheek already stained with his blood.

"There goes our chance at opening the Tower," Forcystus sighed.

"F…" Raine hesitated. "Forgive me, sir."

Forcystus turned to her, narrowing his remaining eye. That sharp gaze wandered from Raine to Lloyd, and back to Raine. She suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. She wondered if she was turning any incriminating shade of red, so she averted her gaze. She faced the ocean, taking a deep breath.

"Well, there's no stopping this now," Forcystus continued. "Kvar will be mobilizing, no doubt, especially if Pronyma already has. He knows he can't isolate himself forever. Lloyd, are you still alive?"

"Y-yeah," Lloyd croaked.

Forcystus turned to him. "Now is the time for us to make our final plays. Now is the time we end this war, and take down Kvar. We're going to face your father and destroy the Desians. Now is your one and only chance to free your mother."

Raine almost had to catch Lloyd as he stumbled forward. "What are... we waiting for?" he slurred, speech impaired by his injury, and most likely, debilitating blood loss. He looked tired, scared, utterly unable to hold himself up. Raine grabbed his arm and held him upright as his legs weakened under him.

"We are going to wait to recover from this little fiasco," Forcystus said, before nodding to the remaining medics. "See that he is treated." They practically had to wrestle him from Raine's grasp, but he stumbled off after them, still apparently in some state of shock.

"So," Focrystus started, when they were alone. "The Chosen was our saboteur."

"I suspect so," Raine answered, watching the elevator where Lloyd had disappeared.

Forcystus strode up beside her and lay a hand on her shoulder. "I want to know if the summoner had anything to do with this."

"I doubt it. She was the first one he turned on."

"Lieutenant." She faced him, pursing her lips. She hoped he could not see how worried she was. "Get some rest."

"Yessir." She saluted him and made her way to the elevator, but before she could enter, Forcystus stepped up beside her, lowering his voice.

"It's a terrible idea," he said. She swallowed guiltily. "Loving that boy. When you leave this world, you will only suffer because of it. You belong with your own kind."

She took in a sharp breath, heart skipping a beat. "I know," was all she could say, before she stepped into the elevator, doors hissing shut behind her.


	51. The Aftermath

"How's the cheek?" Raine asked.

Lloyd raised his hand to his patched skin almost instinctively, and then flinched at the pain of contact. "Never better," he said.

"It's going to leave a scar."

Lloyd sighed. "I know. But my mother always said it was good to have a few scars. Shows experience." He took a moment to laugh, painfully.

Raine smiled, and reached over to cup his chin. "Well, she's not exactly wrong. I have quite a few myself."

"I've seen them," he replied. "I think they're pretty."

She sat down beside him on his bed, and leaned over to examine his gauze. He didn't stop her when she started to peel it off, despite the pulses of pain running through his skin. She pulled away the bandage to reveal what he was sure was his hideous gash. "It's healing well," she said. "And fast."

"It'd probably heal a lot faster if you worked some of your magic, you know." He knew she might resent him for pushing her, but he also knew if she lay her hands on him like his father had so long ago, his acute pain would subside, at least a little. She gave him a defeated look and lowered her gentle fingers from his face.

"I could try. I can't guarantee anything, though."

Lloyd drew back in surprise. "Really? I was afraid you'd get mad at me for suggesting it."

She lowered her eyes. "No… I think I've… probably neglected it for too long."

Lloyd tilted his head toward her, trying to catch her gaze. "Is it because of Sheena?"

She stayed quiet for a while. "Perhaps. At least, she wouldn't be in the state she's in if I could've healed her."

"But she's going to be all right."

"The process is going to be slow, and she's in a lot of pain." Raine's blue irises twitched, her gaze lifting to meet Lloyd's. "How about you? Does it hurt?"

"Yeah. A little."

Raine raised her hand, laying her fingers on his cheek. "Then hold still." Lloyd closed his eyes, ready for that strange warmth of healing magic to tingle through his skin. Raine breathed slowly, fingers trembling slightly as she summoned up her old magic. Lloyd felt his wound cool, as if a comforting, cold compress had been laid on it. His pain receded momentarily, and he smiled a little. He opened one eye to see Raine deep in concentration, a bead of sweat dripping past her eyebrow. Her lips moved slightly, perhaps forming the syllables of an ancient mantra.

The cool, calming energy that permeated his skin made way for a hotter, more intense sensation. He didn't remember any feeling like this when his father had healed him, but he held himself still, assuming Raine knew what she was doing. But when the burning became too painful for him, he pulled away, releasing a half-stifled cry.

Raine recoiled, eyes wide with surprise and compunction. She lowered her hand, clenching her fist. "I'm sorry, Lloyd," she said, as he raised a hand to his cheek. "I shouldn't have tried."

"Nah, you were fine," Lloyd tried to smile. "It feels better already." As the heat subsided, so did his pain. His cheek almost felt normal, when the sear of Raine's treatment wore off.

"It looks better… at least a little," Raine offered, before she lowered her head. "I'm… quite out of practice. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Raine. You'll get better the more you practice." Her eyes told him all she wanted to say: _who in the world would let me practice on them?_ He was all for her regaining her proficiency in magic, but he certainly didn't want to be one of her test subjects. He tried to change the topic of conversation. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"We're going to meet with Yuan," she answered. "Today we prepare to leave the base." She took a moment to squeeze his hand. "We're going to Kvar's ranch. Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, I will." He tried to keep himself from grimacing. "As long as I get to see my mother again, I'll be all right."

"Lloyd…" Raine's eyebrows drew together. "We can't guarantee that she'll still be… well. We know she's alive, but we don't know if she's still healthy or fully functioning."

Lloyd closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "If something happened to her, I'd know it. All the way from this side of the world, I'd feel it." He opened his eyes, a new, fresh feeling coursing through him. "She's okay. I know it."

Raine smiled weakly. "I wish I had that sort of confidence." She stood. "Get up when you're ready. I'll be down in the cells discussing inter-dimensional travel with whomever can answer my questions. I'm hoping we captured a few capable scientists along with all that other Renegade rabble."

Lloyd nodded. "I'll see you down there."

He lay back down, resting his fingers on his injured cheek. He wasn't particularly excited to go see Yuan, but he had managed to work with Desians for so long, he was sure he could handle a Renegade or two. He threw off his blanket and sat up, sighing. His mother would understand. She would know he had done all he could, all that was necessary, to find and rescue her.

For a moment he feared that as soon as he would arrive at the ranch, he'd find his mother had rescued herself and run off into the wilderness. Then he'd have to start the search all over again. Well, regardless of whether she was there to greet him or not, he still had a duty to take down Kvar. He was unsure if he preferred to think of it as revenge, or prevention of atrocities in the future. Either way, he knew the moment he'd see Kvar, he'd take him out.

* * *

"It sounded like there was quite an incident the other day," Yuan said, leaning back on his cell's bench. "I'm sorry I missed it." His eyes wandered to Lloyd, and he looked away.

"It was quite a show." Forcystus narrowed his eye at him. "We rid ourselves of Pronyma during the fireworks display."

"Good." Botta, seated beside Yuan, head bandaged, crossed his arms. "One less thing to worry about."

"I'm wondering, though," Forcystus continued, "if you were the one who put the idea to sabotage us in the Chosen's head."

Yuan shrugged. "Not me. I only met the man once."

"Lloyd tells me when he found the Chosen, he found you with him."

"Yes, that was the one time I met him. I decided I would not like him for an ally anyway. The Chosens are merely tools for Yggdrasill. It's better for me if they die. My real concern was with the summoner."

"The summoner? Sheena?" Lloyd butted in. "Why? What's she got to do with anything?"

Yuan sighed, closing his eyes. "The reason we can't take out Yggdrasill right now is because he's been blessed with the power of Origin."

Lloyd had heard of Origin. He had a place among the highest echelons of ancient spirits. Consequently, Lloyd had always assumed he was merely legend.

"If we wish to destroy Cruxis," Botta finished for him, "We must first remove Origin's power from Yggdrasill. The easiest way to do that is to have a summoner make a pact with him."

"All right, easy then," Lloyd said. "Once Sheena recovers, she can do that."

"It's not that easy, Lloyd," Yuan shifted his eyes. "Mithos knew that he'd be vulnerable if anyone stole the summon spirit away from him. So he sealed Origin away behind a barrier of mana. The only person who can release the seal is your father."

Lloyd grimaced. "Damn. Well then, how do we make him do that?"

"We could threaten to kill you again," Yuan said. "That's the procedure with the most probability of success."

"Remember last time you tried that?" Lloyd growled. "He didn't give a shit. He still doesn't. He left me to die in the woods and he's slowly killing my mother as we speak. He doesn't care about either of us." Lloyd knew at this point his detestation of his father was more of a habit than anything.

Yuan raised his eyebrow and sighed. "I'm afraid that's not true, Lloyd. But now is not the time to discuss such matters." Yuan lowered his head. "If worst comes to worst and he doesn't release the seal willingly, we will simply have to kill him. Either way, he has to die."

Lloyd clenched his fist. "To release his mana?"

"Yes. Unless… well… that's a question for a later time."

"So," Raine started, perhaps eager to end the conversation, "for now, we eliminate Kvar. Origin and the seal can wait. Besides, we need to wait for the pact ring to be crafted—we also need to wait for Sheena to recover. In the meantime, we'll do all we can to clear the way to the Tower so that we can ascend to Derris-Kharlan."

Forcystus nodded. "Now that the Chosen is gone, we will not be able to open the Tower."

"And I can't," Yuan said. "I've tried, but Mithos has barred me from the Tower ever since my defection."

"Can't blame him for that," Forcystus said. "Then the only option left is Kratos. He will be able to get us up there."

Yuan nodded. "Which is why we should avoid killing him."

Lloyd turned to the wall, trying to hide the confused look on his face. He wondered if he'd be able to work with his father, after all he'd done. Worse yet, after all he'd done for _him_. He didn't know if he could live with the guilty reminder that his father had chosen to save him rather than his mother. He did not want to be the reason she'd been sent off to the ranch.

He wondered if his mother could come with him, or if he'd be able to leave her in the safety of Triet while he finished cleaning up this whole mess. He doubted she would tolerate being left behind. If her son was involved in such endeavors as solving the half-elf problem, fixing the mana flow, eliminating Cruxis and the ritual of the Chosen, she wouldn't want to miss out.

His heart ached thinking of her. But he comforted himself with the fact that he would see her very soon. Alive or dead, healthy or sick, he would take her away from the ranch, take her back to the desert, just like she'd done for him so many years ago.

His mother had saved his life, given him back his freedom. He thought it was the least he could do to return the favor.

* * *

"We leave tomorrow at dawn," Raine said, running her fingers through his hair. She took great care to avoid touching his sore cheek as she stroked him. Perhaps it was out of consideration, perhaps remorse for having botched her magic so badly. But she had apparently managed to burn some life back into it, since it felt a lot better than it had before. He tried to tell her that, but she only shook her head, knowing that her expertise had been worn away by the years.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready," Lloyd said, staring at the ceiling. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. I can barely remember a time when finding my mother wasn't my ultimate goal."

"Ultimate?" Raine smiled. "So destroying Cruxis is secondary?"

"You know what I mean." She squeezed him tighter, pushing a sigh from his lungs. "So… tell me about Origin. Tell me why this guy is so important."

Raine turned on her back. "You know that Mithos the Hero ended the Kharlan War, yes?"

"Duh."

"Well, in order to do it, he needed to split the world in two. He severed any contact between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, and it stopped the war. But how? How does one acquire enough power to literally cut a planet in two?"

"I'm assuming the answer is Origin."

"Yes. Origin. When Yggdrasill made a pact with the spirit, he acquired a weapon of phenomenal power, the Eternal Sword. This weapon was capable of cleaving a world, and, ultimately, it might be capable of putting it back together."

Putting the world back together. If he did that, there would be no threat of mana shortages for either one. "So, if we get the Eternal Sword, we can reunite the world, and then the mana problem will be solved, right?"

"No, not exactly. Even with the worlds not competing for mana, there is still a limited supply. Besides…" she turned her head up to Lloyd, a guilty look in her eyes. "Reuniting the worlds is not our goal. Our objective is to retake Derris-Kharlan. Beyond that, the mana supply is the humans' problem."

Lloyd grimaced. "Really? You're just going to run up to your little planet and watch the world die under you?"

"No. As far as I can tell, mana flow will attain stability if we keep the worlds separated. You have many choices of how to manage it: you can merely pour all of it into one world and let the other one die, moving all the inhabitants of one world to the other. You can find a way to create a constant and steady flow between the two and share mana equally. There may be even more solutions, but I haven't considered them yet. I haven't had the time."

Lloyd shook his head. "And all these plans are in your notebooks, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Of course you would think about the worlds you've already left behind."

"I'm a half-elf. Not a monster." She leaned over and kissed him. "Don't worry, Lloyd. I won't let your world die just because I can live peacefully on mine. But we can discuss the intricacies of mana preservation later, after we wrest Derris-Kharlan back from Yggdrasill. Right now, get some sleep."

Lloyd closed his eyes. He couldn't help but meander through all the possible ways to redistribute mana between the worlds. _It__'__ll be easy if we have Origin__'__s help_, he thought. _If we get the Eternal Sword, or whatever it is, we can find a way to let both worlds live, together or separately._ He knew he didn't have the wherewithal to parse through the possibilities with the time he had now. He needed to focus on getting sleep, on resting up for the big trip to Kvar's ranch in the morning.

"Hey, Raine," he whispered in the dark.

She opened one eye, half-asleep.

"What are you scared of?"

"Not now, Lloyd," she groaned, turning over.

"No really, what's the thing you're most afraid of?"

She took a deep breath, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "If I tell you, will you go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"I'm most afraid of going mad."

"What? Really?" The answer surprised Lloyd. He had never met a saner, more logical person.

"Yes. I don't want to wake up one day and suddenly be unable to think. I don't want to have the world slowly fall apart around me the same way it did for my mother."

It made sense to him, all of a sudden. Raine was Raine _because_ she was so sane and logical. Losing her mind was equivalent to losing herself. He could only imagine her surprise when she came across her mother, so different from how she must've remembered. He reckoned Raine's mother wasn't even her mother anymore.

Lloyd gulped, suddenly afraid for his own mother. He didn't know what had happened to her at Kvar's ranch, but he knew enough about ranches, and about Kvar himself, to know it wasn't good. She might come out of the experience a changed woman. A madwoman.

He calmed a little when Raine's hand found his under the sheets. She squeezed it tight, turning over and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm scared of?" he said.

"No." She closed her eyes. "I'm going to ask you to calm down and go to sleep."

Lloyd breathed deeply, tugging her closer. "Raine, thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything." He shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth. "Everything."

* * *

"It's a pity we couldn't salvage Pronyma's warship," Forcystus said. Their small gunboat soared past the half-sunken wreckage of the ship.

"Agreed. It would've been nice to destroy Kvar with his own ally's weaponry," Yuan muttered. They stood on the front of the boat, watching the glinting debris pass and fade into the distance behind them. A few corpses, remains of discarded weapons, and splinters of scaffolding floated in the foam. Any survivors of the crash had been left to the mercy of the sea, and there was no ceremony for the fallen. Only the warship itself received any form of mourning.

Lloyd leaned over the railing, watching the wreckage shrink into the horizon. Raine stood beside him, a hand on the small of his back. She did not seem to mind if anyone saw her touch him.

"I wonder if Sheena will be all right," he said.

"She'll be fine," Raine answered. "She's in good care."

Lloyd leaned down and watched the water splash by. "I'm tired of the sea," he said. "Ever since I left the desert, I always seem to find myself on a goddamn boat."

"I know what you mean," she sighed. She crossed her arms and leaned over the railing next to him.

"Hey, Raine…"

"What?"

"Why don't you come back to the desert with me? When all this is over."

She stayed silent. She glanced down to the water, foam reflecting in her blue eyes.

"There are no oceans there. No rain either. Just blue sky and sand."

"I don't think I can, Lloyd."

"And then there's the oasis. I can take you there and teach you to swim."

"I think I'd prefer to stay away from all water."

"The oasis isn't like the ocean. It's calm, and clear. It's refreshing, and you can see right to the bottom."

"Lloyd, I—"

"There's also the Triet ruins. You'd get a kick outta them. They're huge—they go miles into the ground, I'm pretty sure. That's years of exploring right there." He failed to mention that he had blown up the western wall; he wasn't sure she'd appreciate that information.

She glanced up at him. He couldn't read the expression on her face, couldn't interpret the twitch of her eyebrow. He almost started to sweat, before her slight smile dissipated his worry.

"I'll think about it, Lloyd."

It was better than nothing.


	52. V: Another Reunion

V: Love

* * *

Anna lay her head against her husband's shoulder, and watched the wind rustle the trees. "Do you hear that?" she asked. She knew it was an unnecessary question. Of course he could. He could hear every swish of a leaf, every breath of wind, the distant rutting of boars on the other side of the mountain. Of course he could hear Noishe howling.

"He seems upset," Kratos said.

"More so than usual?" Anna pulled her weight off her husband and leaned out over the railing, staring into the shuddering woods. "He hasn't howled like that before."

"He has… just not for a long, long time." Kratos reached out to Anna, pulling her away from the railing. His bright eyes scanned the horizon, flitting up and down the outlines of mountains. His ears twitched, listening for any signs of danger. "It's best if we go back inside."

"What, is there a storm brewing?" she asked, smiling a little. The skies were clear and the wind mild, but she'd heard stories of animals accurately predicting earthquakes, floods and other natural disasters. The sudden appearance of a cataclysm seemed unlikely in a climate such as this—and besides, a having a hurricane tear apart the ranch would be too big of a gift for fate to give her. Maybe if the building collapsed she'd be able to crawl out of the rubble and escape, and no one could have that. Not Kvar, not Kratos, not the gods themselves. No, there would be no hurricane.

Then what, if anything, was Noishe crying about? "Don't squeeze my hand so tight," she told Kratos as he led her across the wall to the door to the stairwell. He loosened his grip, stopping only to look behind him, into the wilderness. "What do you think is out there?" she asked. He opened his mouth to answer, but the only sound she heard was the rapidly crescendoing screech of the ranch's emergency alarm. She jumped at the sudden wail, momentarily brought back to that night so many years ago when she'd run from this very sound, dragging her young son behind her. He swallowed, keeping herself from trembling, and let her husband lead her into the safety of the ranch.

"What's going on?" she asked, as they jogged down halls and across catwalks.

"I don't know."

"Then go find out."

He pushed open the door to her chamber, shoving her inside. He followed behind her and locked the door. "I'm not leaving you alone." He stood facing the entrance, hand on his sword hilt. "I'm assuming it's a raid. I'm also assuming it's Yuan. He's here to kill you, or me, or both. I won't let that happen."

She grit her teeth, not quite willing to merely hide in his shadow. "And you think you're going to just fight them all off."

"Yes."

He answered with such surety Anna had no choice but to believe him. A big part of her hoped it wasn't a drill or false alarm, that it was a natural disaster, or Yuan, or any other enemy. An army at Kvar's door threatening to slaughter his men would seem like enough of a distraction that she might find her way out into the real world again. She might be able to slip out from under Kvar's nose, from under Kratos', and go find her son.

She knew she was being unreasonably optimistic. Kratos would never let her out of his sight. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or thankful about that. She just let him stand by her door, hand on his sword hilt, watching for any sign of intrusion. She sat down on her bed, crossing her arms, wishing passionately that an explosion would blast away the walls confining her, and she could run out into the wilderness.

The alarm stopped screeching. Kratos lifted his eyes to the ceiling, presumably on alert for something.

"Was it just a drill?" Anna asked.

"No. They're sending out the guard." Kratos closed his eyes and his ears twitched slightly. "They're heading to the front gate."

Anna leaned back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She didn't know what else to do but wait, letting Kratos do his self-appointed duty of protecting her from people she honestly wouldn't mind popping in and destroying the ranch. If they killed her in the process, she'd be free from the pain, and the Desians would have no Angelus project. But then again, Lloyd would have no mother. If what Kratos told her was true, Cruxis would go after him instead, and she couldn't have that. No, she'd let Kratos protect her. He always said he wanted to.

The entire ranch rumbled deeply. A few flecks of dust fell from the ceiling, and the facility creaked with the agonized splitting of metal. Footsteps, both the constant, rhythmic march of soldiers, and the scrambling thumps of fighting echoed above her. She didn't need Kratos' preternaturally good hearing to conceive a vague idea of what was going on around her. Someone had raided the ranch. They had breached the outer wall, gotten past the defenses ringing the perimeter, and broken into the inner levels. A few dozen feet away from her, on the other side of steel walls and thick ceilings, it was chaos.

Anna, against her better judgment, let her hopes rise. Kratos stood facing the doorway, ready for any intrusion, and she smiled. Perhaps Yuan himself would burst through the door and Kratos would be so preoccupied with settling old scores he wouldn't notice if she slipped away. She brought up the ranch's blueprint in her head, trying to calculate the easiest escape route. Perhaps, if Kvar were taken down or distracted enough, she'd be able to go and find Lloyd out in the desert and warn him before the Desians regrouped and put out the fires. They could be long gone, hidden in the wilderness before the Desians even noticed she'd escaped.

_You should really learn to curb your unrealistic aspirations,_ she told herself. But that's what she told herself when she was a child and fantasized about becoming a famous actress, what she told herself when she had been interned at Kvar's ranch the first time, and dreamed of escape, what she told herself when she dared to hope her son would grow up normal. Perhaps she could come to terms with the absurdity of her expectations, and accept that perhaps they were not as absurd as she thought.

Another crashing sound barreled through the room, shaking the walls. Kratos steadied himself, taking a deep breath. "Are you all right?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the door.

"Just peachy," she answered. "Never better."

"Now's no time for jokes."

"No, I mean it. I haven't felt this spirited in quite a while." She looked down at her exsphere, glowing with the prospect of her perhaps having to fight her way to freedom. It was enjoying her nervousness, her excitement, her elevated heart beat and tense muscles. She silently told it to wait until things got really chaotic. Then she knew if she was lucky, the little stone might just lend her its aid when she needed it.

She didn't have time to marvel at the complexities of her relationship with the small, inanimate parasite living on her hand. With a deafening boom, the door swung open. A puff of brown smoke entered the room, along with a wave of sound from the hallway. Yells, gunshots, the screeching of alarms and metal deforming in the fire and explosions. She tripped off her bed, raising her only fist like she could possibly hope to defend herself with it.

Kratos drew his sword, staring into the billowing smoke. He raised the blade as a thin figure emerged from the dust. Anna could make out the curve and shine of a Desian helmet, and when the figure rolled to dodge Kratos' quick strike, it emerged fully from the haze. It was definitely a soldier, lean and tall but unmistakably shaped like a woman, dressed in a gunman's uniform. Why a sniper would find herself here rather than at the perimeter, taking out officers from afar, Anna didn't know.

When the Desain reached back to draw her pistol, Kratos was already throwing himself toward her, blade raised. He didn't see the second Desian jump from the dust to defend his comrade. Anna wasn't sure if she'd seen properly either, since the soldier drew a pair of knives rather than the standard-issue machete. Her heart stopped in her chest as the two small blades rose up to meet Kratos' larger one. The ringing of metal on metal seemed to echo without end, and in the unbearable, eternal moment when the realization washed over her, she couldn't stop herself from jumping over the bed and throwing herself toward the crossfire.

"Stop!" she screamed, reaching out the only hand she had left.

Kratos pulled his sword back above his head, hesitating. Before he could decide whether or not to resume his fight with the soldier, Anna flew in front of him. She tackled the soldier, unconcerned about the two small blades in his hands. He managed to pull them out of the way as she embraced him, tightly, almost violently.

"_Bulanoharan, ahmun_," she sobbed. She nearly lifted him off the ground, squeezing him so tightly he could barely reply.

"_Bulanoharan_, _el__á_."

She loosened her grip on him, reaching up and tugging the Desian helmet off him before he could remove it himself. No doubt about it, it was her precious child, a little older, a little leaner, and with a new, shining pink scar on his cheek, but it was him. She continued fervently in Trieti, "How did you get in? Where the hell have you been? And what is this you're wearing? Martel above, Lloyd, you have a lot of explaining to do."

He laughed. "I know. But we can do it later. _El__á_…" his eyes wandered to her exsphere. "We need to get out." He looked up, past her shoulder, to his father.

Anna turned, not sure what to expect. Kratos stared at them both, sword still in hand, mouth taut. "You're supposed to be back in Triet," he said.

"Yeah, I am. We both are. That's why I'm here for _el__á_." Lloyd clenched her elbow, staring Kratos down. "We're going home. And you're not going to stop us."

Kratos slid his sword back into his scabbard. "No. I'm not." He narrowed his eyes. "Where's Kvar? Your escape will all be for naught if he has the means to find you again."

"We'll worry about that later," Lloyd said. He gripped Anna's wrist and led her to the door, followed by his silent, helmeted companion. Kratos stood where he was, arms crossed. "You're not working for Yuan, are you?" he asked.

"No." Lloyd turned his head to smile mischievously at him. "Yuan's working for us."

Anna wanted to ask who this mysterious "us" was, and she could see by the scowl on her husband's face that he had several ideas, none of them pleasant.

"Come on, Kratos," she urged, when he did not follow. "You can't stay here."

As he had so many times before, he stood paralyzed by indecision. His mouth contorted, his fist clenched, as if he was desperately trying to weigh probabilities in his head. Anna knew he was trying to figure out the course of maximal benefit and minimal cost to his son. Perhaps he considered staying behind and letting them escape alone. Perhaps he would stay to pick off the rest of the Desians. Or perhaps he would attack them again, refusing to let her leave in case Kvar recaptured her and tortured her to his satisfaction.

A cloaked figure in the doorway drew Kratos' gaze from the floor. He snarled, hand twitching to the hilt of his sword. "Yuan," he growled.

"Me," Yuan sighed, leaning in the doorway. A trickle of blood made its way past his cheek, staining portions of his hair a dark brownish-red. "We can work things out later," he said. "For now, if you want your family to survive, we need to get out of here." When Kratos' hand relaxed, Yuan's eyes settled on Lloyd's tall companion. "The self-destruct sequence is online. We only have a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" the soldier replied. When Yuan nodded and disappeared past the doorway, she ran after him, turning to make sure Lloyd was following her. "That's the last time I leave any important work to Yuan's technicians," she growled.

Lloyd laughed a little, dragging Anna after him. "Next time, we'll do it."

"Good thing there isn't going to be a next time," the woman replied, skidding around a corner after Yuan.

Anna glanced behind her to see Kratos running after them, and she couldn't hold in her sigh of relief. While he probably deserved retribution for his crimes, she wouldn't have wanted him to condemn himself to die under a collapsing human ranch. No one deserved that.

"What… what about the other prisoners?" Anna panted, barely keeping up with her son.

"They're out already," he replied.

"And Kvar?" Kratos asked, falling in stride behind them.

"I don't know," Lloyd said. "We couldn't find him. But if he's locked himself up somewhere safe, he's not gonna be safe for long."

Anna couldn't help but smile a little. She imagined that coward Kvar locked up in a panic room, surrounded by guards. She imagined his face when the his false sense of security fell away, when the realization of his ranch's detonation dawned on him. She knew everything would probably happen too fast for him to register, but she liked to imagine him steadily elevating into a state of sheer panic as the flames licked at his door.

It was vengeful thoughts like this that invigorated her, and gave her the energy to follow her son all the way to the ranch's yard, and out the blasted front gate. She raised what was left of her arm and covered her mouth against the smoke. The shouts and scurry of hundreds of Desian soldiers sounded through the facility, and Anna spied figures making their way out of the building at breakneck speed. She wondered if they were friend or foe—it was hard to tell nowadays, with everyone dressed up as Desians.

_Must be the latest fashion_, she thought to herself, as she crossed under the outer gate. _Maybe Lloyd is finally catching up to his chic side._ She wondered why she wasn't having more meaningful revelations at this pivotal moment, but she figured there would be no point in punishing herself for it.

She had her son back. She had him back, and she was free. With those two mountainous goals suddenly checked off her to-do list, she had no choice but to fall back on her more peripheral worries. What a luxury. She could find out what Lloyd had been up while she'd been interned, she could find out why Kratos had been so sure he'd gone back to Triet and resumed his life. And, perhaps most intriguing of all, she could meet Lloyd's new mysterious allies. There was such a strange new world ahead of her, but she was so taken aback by the sudden invasion and the subsequent arrival of her son, that she did not even have the mental capacity to be thankful for it.


	53. What's Done is Done

The forest camp was abuzz with word of victory. Fires roared, men sang, played games, drank their fill of wine both pilfered from Kvar's stores and snuck surreptitiously from the Remote Island Ranch. Forcystus did not see to the punishment of his men's ill-advised behavior. It seemed he wanted to let them celebrate without interruption or consequence. The worst battles were yet to come.

Lloyd did not imbibe, at least, not as much as the others. He sat outside his tent with his mother and his oud, strumming a few old Trieti songs. Raine had disappeared to take care of some task or another. His father and Yuan had been summoned to Forcystus, so he could decide what to do with the both of them. Lloyd was free to sit with his mother by the fire, as he always used to, strumming songs.

She looked so old, so frail, in the ruddy firelight. He had forgotten what she looked like the last time they'd escaped from the ranch, but he couldn't stand to see her cheekbones so pronounced, her eyelids so heavy, her frown so hopeless. She had grown a few more wrinkles since he'd last seen her, and more than a few grey hairs. Lloyd wondered if it was merely the result of her suffering at the ranch, or if her new exsphere had a role to play in it.

On their way back to camp, when the initial excitement of their reunion had dimmed a little, she reached over and grabbed his hand, looking at her exsphere sitting comfortably on his skin. "So, you had it the whole time, did you?"

"Not the whole time," he answered. "It went missing for a little while."

Anna dropped his hand, clenching her own. She remained silent, all the way to the camp. Lloyd let her have her quietness, let her avoid looking at both him and his father. She retreated to that most intimate place inside herself where her thoughts lived, and did not return until late that night, when they sat around the fire. Kratos was long gone by then, summoned to Forcystus' side. Perhaps it was his disappearance that let her muster the courage to speak her mind again, to return to her old self.

"Where did my husband run off to?" she asked. Perhaps she had not noticed his absence while she was deep in her own thoughts.

"He's with Forcystus. I don't know what he's gonna do with him." Lloyd threw his leftovers into the fire. "Probably kill him, to be honest."

A pained look crossed Anna's emaciated face. "And will you try to stop it?" She reached over and took Lloyd's hand in her own. "Do you want him to die?"

Lloyd stared into the fire, twisting his mouth. "Yes, and no. I can't forgive him for what he did to you. For cutting off your arm, for abandoning us…"

"Did he tell you why he did that?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if I believe it. About you turning into a monster."

"It's true."

Lloyd glanced up at her, heart skipping a beat. He tried to breathe in, to accept the fact that the woman who now leaned over him, so tenderly, had once tried to rend him limb from limb. "If… if you say it is, _el__á_."

"He did what he could to protect you from me," she lowered her eyes. "I didn't want to, I didn't _mean_ to, but…"

"I know you didn't."

"I don't think he did, either. Some things are just beyond our control."

Lloyd turned away, gazing into the base of the fire, where the wood smoldered in pulsating rhythms. "But the second time… at the lake. He had control then."

"What he did, he did for you. If he didn't give me to them, they would've come after you. I hated him for it, for a while. But I came to realize we were complicit in this. We both knew that if I stayed at the ranch, you'd be safe, at least for a little while."

"But he was _lying_ to you!" Lloyd said. "I wasn't in any danger! He told you they'd come for me to keep you in line."

Anna sighed. "He was lied to, as well. He wasn't willing to leave me alone at the ranch, with Kvar. And… I'm thankful he didn't leave. I don't know if I'd be sitting here right now if he weren't keeping an eye on me." She rubbed her forehead, exsphere glinting blue in the light. "So, if you're going to be angry, be angry with both of us. We have both made your life miserable."

"_El__á_," Lloyd could barely push out the words, "don't even say that."

"I went with him, I stayed with him, because we both thought it would be better for you."

"I don't care what's better for me! I would've come with you to the ranch, if I could have. I just wanted to stay with you." His eyes darted to her exsphere. "And now… because I wasn't there to protect you…"

"Lloyd, don't worry about it." She wrapped him in her arm. "What's done is done. There's no use in pretending things could've gone differently." He succumbed to her embrace, breaking down like he often did as a child. She tucked a stray hair behind his ear. "Despite it all, you've given me a wonderful life."

"Don't talk like that," he said, muffled against her shoulder. "Your life isn't going to end anytime soon."

"I hope not." It took him a moment to realize she was shaking slightly. He held her tighter, hoping that if only he squeezed hard enough, she would still. "I won't let it end. Not so soon after I got you back."

He pulled away, smiling. "You got me back? Who rescued who this time, _el__á_?"

"It's 'who rescued whom,' Lloyd." He frowned at her. "But I will admit that you were quite heroic. I thought you had disguised yourself as a Desian soldier and broke through their ranks yourself."

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. "Yeah, not so much. I know you're going to be mad at me for this… but I've been working with them for a while now."

"It was all to rescue me, though, wasn't it?"

"For the first while, yeah. But… but Forcystus is going to take down Cruxis, and all the Desians. He's gonna destroy them and take all the half-elves back home with him."

"Home where?"

"To Derris-Kharlan."

Anna was silent for a moment. Lloyd didn't know if she knew of Derris-Kharlan, of the origin of elven blood, but she did not seem to desire an explanation. "And you think he'll succeed? Do you think he'll bring peace?"

"Yeah… I think he will. I don't know if all the half-elves will go with him, but a good number of them will. The ones left behind, we can learn to live with… if the Tethe'allans cooperate." He hugged his knees. "It's gonna be tough. They have it bad on that side."

"So…" Anna smiled. "My son has traveled both worlds, he's strong and brave and sympathetic to the plights of all races… I think I've done a pretty god job with you."

He laughed. "Yeah… I guess you did all right."

"I suppose it's pointless to tell you how much I missed you. You already know."

"Yeah, I know. Probably about as much as I missed you."

"So, what now?" she asked. "What are you going to do? Are you going to finally go back to Triet?"

"Not if you're not going."

"I'll go anywhere you go."

Lloyd smiled. "I hope you don't mean that. I'm going to some scary places."

"Then I'll come with you. It'll be just like old times. Except we won't be running from anything. We'll be running toward something instead."

"That sounds… great, _el__á_. But I'm worried about you. You should go back to the desert, where you'll be safe."

"And rot away without you? Lloyd, this exsphere is going to kill me eventually anyway. I don't want to spend a day of my time left away from you."

As much as he wanted to protest, he couldn't help but give in. "All right, _el__á_. But I can't guarantee Forcystus will let you."

"He will. If he wants Kratos on his side, he'll keep me around." She smiled at Lloyd's suspicious look. "I know your father better than anyone. He's wrapped around the end of my little finger—he always has been. And given his value, he has everyone else wrapped around his."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows at her. "So… do you know about Origin's seal?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "He told me all this a long time ago. It's all coming back, now. I know what he'll have to do, Lloyd... If he thinks he's better off dying for both of us..." She touched his shoulder, gently. "I don't want him to die, I really don't. But we both know we probably won't be able to stop him."

Lloyd sighed. "I feel… that we'd be letting him off easy, if we just let him kill himself to release the seal."

"Oh, we would. But don't worry. I punished him amply at the ranch."

"Did you? Don't tell me about it."

"I won't. The details are too harrowing." She smiled, pushed away from him. She looked back into the fire. "Lloyd… I'm just glad I have you back. I just… never hoped you'd get caught up in all this stuff with Cruxis. I suppose it's what I get for choosing the wrong father for my son."

Lloyd crossed his legs, laying his oud across them. "Yeah, maybe if you'd run off with one of your fans, things would've turned out differently."

"No sense fantasizing about it now," Anna said. "Let's just try to enjoy the time we have with each other." She watched the embers glow, flame dying. "I just want to see you happy. If running around with Desians makes you happy, then by all means, do it."

"It doesn't, _el__á_. But I think making the world a better place would make me happy. I hope it would make you happy, too." He paused. "Or else you have some serious ethical issues."

Anna laughed, heartily. "Gods, Lloyd. I've missed having you around." Her laugh broadened, quieted into a yawn. "But we can talk more tomorrow. Right now, I'm beat." She lay down next to the fire, and Lloyd lowered himself across from her, watching her eyes glint in the dim light of distant stars.

"Are you sure you don't want to go sleep in a tent? There's plenty of room."

"Not a cloud in sight," she said. "I don't think it's going to rain tonight."

Lloyd scooted onto his back, taking in the smear of galaxy glowing high above him. "Doesn't look like it."

"No…" Anna closed her eyes, drifting off into that strange place between wakefulness and sleep, where she often ended her late night conversations with him. "When your father gets back… tell him…"

"Tell him what?"

Anna only snored in reply. Lloyd rolled over, folding his hands under his head, and watched her face sink into darkness as the last light of fire flickered out.

* * *

"Any word of Kvar?" Yuan asked.

"Not yet." Forcystus stood, arms crossed, staring over the camp. The celebrations had died down hours ago, and most of the camp had fallen into a restful sleep. There was little risk of retaliation, after they had decimated Kvar's security force. But the man himself could still be out there somewhere, either regrouping with the survivors or hiding away like a coward. Probably both.

Raine couldn't say whether she was satisfied or disappointed with the work they had done in the Asgard ranch. There were few casualties. Most of the prisoners had escaped before the ranch collapsed, but the timing had been hideous. Their inability to confirm Kvar's death had, of course, been a monumental disappointment, but it still meant they could possibly capture him alive and interrogate him. He would be able to tell them all about Mithos, who in the course of this intra-Desian war, had remained suspiciously absent. Perhaps he had a trick up his sleeve, or simply preferred to watch the carnage from afar. Perhaps he couldn't be bothered to concern himself with the fates of his loyal subjects. Any of these seemed possible to Raine.

"Well, if Kvar is beyond our control at this moment, the only problem left is you," Forcystus said to Kratos. "We have your son. We have your wife. I wouldn't suggest trying anything suspicious."

"I'm not going to," he said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Forcystus narrowed his eye at him, mouth curling into a slight smile. "You're in a difficult position right now. I know you did what you did to keep your son away from Desians. But he obviously had other plans."

"Were you the one who fed the Asgard intelligence unit false information about Lloyd's whereabouts?"

Forcystus shrugged. "It was all Kvar. He had to keep you where he wanted you, deep in his pocket. But I didn't stop him. Lloyd is one of my men now. The last thing I need is Kvar snooping around, disrupting my work to look for him. Besides, he still has the Angelus Exsphere. I'm letting it grow on him."

Kratos' throat rose and fell slightly when he audibly swallowed a lump. "And?"

"He's fine. We're using a key crest, obviously. It's grown significantly stronger in his possession. The Lieutenant will divulge the details to you if you wish. Your son has not been harmed—in fact, I think he's better off for it." Forcystus took advantage of Kratos' momentary silence. "Despite its bloody history, he has gotten along fine with it, and when the time comes, he will be rid of that reminder as well. He will never have to think of us ever again. You, me, the Desians, the ranches, half-elves… It's a luxury worth giving him, isn't it?"

Raine could see Kratos' jaw clench beneath the skin. "Do you honestly believe you can take down Mithos? Do you really think you can steal Derris-Kharlan from him?"

"We can with Origin's seal broken. The other Cardinals are dead, the Chosens are dead, Kvar's army is scattered and his ranch is in ruins. The only obstacle left is you. And with your wife and son in our custody, I don't think you'll be defending Mithos anytime soon."

Kratos' eyes wandered to Yuan. "What about the Tree?"

"Yuan has agreed to forget about the Tree," Forcystus said. "He has come to terms with its death. It's gone. There's nothing we can do about it. Yuan knows that both the Tree and Martel are long dead." Kratos narrowed his eyes, not taking them off Yuan. Yuan lowered his, scowling. "What does Lloyd know about all this?" Kratos asked.

"Everything. He knows our goals, he knows our methods, he knows about Mithos and Martel and what will happen to you when we release the seal. And he has accepted all these things."

Kratos sighed. "If he believes that this is the path to take, then I will help him."

"Good." Forcystus turned again to the patchwork assortment of tents that lay across the valley. "We will make for the old Renegade base in the morning. From there, we can go to Tethe'alla, where you will release the seal." He paused. "And after that… we'll discuss that later. Yuan, stay with me. We have some logistics about rheiard travel to discuss. The rest of you, dismissed."

The small party that had gathered around Forcystus dispersed. Each officer started to trudge back to his or her own tent, to no doubt catch some sleep, or make up for some of the party time they lost under the close eye of their commander.

Raine did not go back to her tent. Instead, she fell in line behind Kratos as he made his way past the dimming fires, all the way across camp. She tried to keep her distance, tried to mask the sounds of her steps in the constant hum of activity around them, but she knew his ears were too keen not to notice her pursuit. He was, after all, one of the Seraphim.

He stopped, lifting his head to the sky. He did not look at her. "If you wish to speak, do so."

Raine took a cautious step forward. Her hand, almost subconsciously, wandered to her side, fingertips grazing the grip of her pistol. "I don't wish to speak. I'd rather sit back and observe."

He turned his head, just slightly. She caught a glimpse of his strange, old eyes. "You are the Lieutenant Forcystus spoke of, correct? Tell me about Lloyd. Tell me about the exsphere."

"They are both in good condition."

"You speak of him like you would a mere tool."

"For our purposes, he is." Raine walked up to Kratos, falling in step beside him as he turned and made his way to where Raine assumed Lloyd had made camp. She hadn't seen him since their arrival. "Keep in mind, you are too. As long as you release the seal, as long as you do no harm to our campaign, you and your family will remain safe."

Kratos closed his eyes, smiling. He walked onward, seeming to guess where his feet should next fall. "You were with Lloyd when he came to the ranch, were you not?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything—" she began.

He glanced to her, sharp eyes seeming to pierce her own. She couldn't help but swallow nervously as he sized her up. "I can tell clearly that Lloyd trusts you. Make sure you take care of him after I'm gone."

"As far as we can help it, you're not going anywhere," she answered. "Yuan assures us there is a way to release the seal without killing you."

A shadow passed under Kratos' nose, and Raine couldn't tell if it was a snarl or not. "Only fools believe Yuan."

"I do not care how it ends up one way or another. But should you live, you must assist us in taking down Mithos." His quizzical look made her continue. "Forcystus is very sure he will be able to destroy Mithos on his own. I have my doubts."

"Does Forcystus know about these doubts?"

"No. But from what I can gather, from all the things I've read, from all the histories, from the accounts of the War and the documents left behind, Mithos is not a man to be taken down easily. And these past millennia have only served to make him more powerful. But…" She tried to catch a glimpse of his eye beneath the dark hair that covered it. "It has made you more powerful, too."

"Why do you assume that?"

"You have survived things other men cannot. I have read the reports of your exploits. I know what trouble you've caused Cruxis when you defected. I know the stories of your prowess. I know what they did to you the day your wife succumbed to her exsphere—no one else could've survived that." She paused. "You cannot defeat him alone, I am sure, but we need you. And I think… to some degree, Lloyd needs you."

Kratos stopped, face betraying nothing. "Why would you say that?"

"I know you did what you did for him. Everything despicable, evil, and cruel, you have done for him. I think he knows it, too." She bit her lip, wondering if she'd said too much. Kratos started walking again, and she followed close behind. "If he doesn't realize it now, he will soon."

"How can you contend to know the reasons behind my actions?"

"It doesn't take a genius." She frowned. "You're more transparent than you know. Besides… he's a bit like you."

"Is he?"

"More than he'd like to admit."

When they arrived within earshot of where Lloyd had settled down, Kratos turned to her. "You are a strange woman, Lieutenant. But you are as transparent as I. It is clear you have some investment in my son beyond that of a human subject."

Raine turned cold. She sensed no malice in his words, but his stare still made her uncomfortable.

"Do not hurt him," Kratos said.

"I'll ask the same of you," Raine replied.

"I will do my best. I cannot guarantee anything, however." Kratos stepped toward the fire, where his son and wife slept, each bundled similarly in their thin cloaks, legs splayed in the same clumsy manner. Kratos sat at Anna's head, pushing a few strands of hair away from her cheek. She snored lightly. "Even when I try not to, I hurt them. I hurt everything I touch."

Raine hadn't prepared herself for this confession. But she seated herself across from him, confident in Kratos' apparent assessment that his family was deep enough in sleep not to hear their conversation.

"Perhaps it will be better if I end myself with the seal," he whispered.

"I will not argue that it will be better for you to die," she said. "But if you survive releasing the seal, please die after we take down Mithos. Do Lloyd one last favor, and help him destroy the man that ruined his family."

Kratos closed his eyes, brow furrowing. "Very well." He stared at his son for a little while, expressionless. "When I dared to let myself imagine I could see my family again, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Raine couldn't help but smile. "Sometimes things don't go the way you want." She paused, glancing down to Lloyd, watching his eyelids twitch in sleep. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "I make a mean hot toddy."

"I think I'd like that."

"Well, stay here and protect the camp. I'll be right back."

* * *

The small hours of the morning were quiet. The celebrations had died down, the fires dimmed, and the only sounds that could be heard where the hooting of owls and the light snoring of hundreds of soldiers.

Nobody heard the dry pine needles and tiny twigs snap beneath the creature's feet. He padded along the shadows, ears back, keen nose leading the way. He circumambulated the camp, head down, tail up. He crept between tree trunks and ferns until he found the scent of one a man still awake. He followed the smell, sneaking along until he saw the outline of his familiar shadow.

He crept up to the fire and sat on his haunches. The man who had once been a dear friend turned his head, slowly.

The creature panted, blinked, and let out shallow, thin whine. The man sighed, closing his eyes. "No, Noishe. You need to stay here. Where we're going is no place for you."

Noishe did not appreciate being dismissed so easily after all the pacing and howling he did at the human ranch.

"You need to watch over Lloyd when he gets back. So wait for him here."

Noishe growled suppliantly. _He doesn__'__t need watching over. You do_.

Kratos did not seem to understand the subtle glints of Noishe's eyes, the deliberate swish of his tail. "Wait here, Noishe."

The animal grunted, blew air from his nose, dissatisfied. But Kratos did not care to understand him. He only turned back to the dwindling firelight, letting silence fall back over him, as it always did.

Noishe knew he would get nowhere. So he brushed his tail against the dry ground, slinking back off into the shadows. He did not care for Kratos' commands, but he knew it was no longer his duty to protect the man. He would do as he asked. He would wait.


	54. Onward

When Anna sat up and looked around her, she remained unsure if she had actually woken up or not. There were no fences, no gates, no oppressive atmosphere of captivity. Around her stood endless trees, the leaning, moth-eaten canopies of tents, the open expanse of early morning sky. Most astounding was the presence of her son, sleeping at her feet, curled around his own bedroll. Anna stretched, the events of the previous days coming back to her slowly. She sighed, closing her eyes, still unsure if everything around her was merely a wishful fantasy, and that any moment she would awaken for real, scared and miserable at the ranch.

Her son was huddled close to her, hugging his knees. Her husband was missing. She spied Lloyd's Desian companion, helmet removed, sitting by the ashes of the fire, raising a mug to her lips. Anna pulled herself out of her shabby bedroll and stood, shaking out her tangled hair and brushing off her clothes. As she strode over to the Desian, the woman lifted her eyes and smiled slightly at her approach.

"Good morning," she said. She reached down beside her, hand disappearing behind the stump she sat on, and produced a second mug. She handed it to Anna and poured her some coffee.

"Morning," Anna replied. She looked the woman up an down, for any signs of treachery or malice. She had a stern but kind enough face, and Anna took the cup from her with little suspicion. The coffee was not good, but caffeine was caffeine and Anna would have to take advantage of her luxuries when she could find them. She hadn't been allowed coffee at the ranch and didn't know how long the wonderful substance would be available to her.

She sat down beside the Desian woman and stared into the ashes of the long-dead fire. "So, what's on the schedule for today?"

"We're going to make our way north, to the main fleet," she replied. "From there we'll head back to the Renegade base in the desert."

"And then on to Tethe'alla," Anna finished. The quizzical look the Desian gave her made her smile. "So, I never caught your name."

"Raine." The way she held out her hand, so benignly, so formally, made Anna feel a little strange, like she was suddenly at an audition. She felt as if this woman would judge her for her talent and versatility, and decide whether or not to abandon her to the wilds or to let her travel with her son according to the results.

"You're Lloyd's friend," Anna said.

"Well, sort of."

"So what are you then, his girlfriend?"

"I'm his… tutor."

Anna nearly dropped her mug. She blinked, steadily, knowing that the Desian must be more than just a teacher to her son. But she didn't pry, she only laughed. She held her head, staring into her reflection in the dark coffee, smiling broadly. "Bless your heart, woman. You're _tutoring_ him? In what?"

Anna's voice carried across their small portion of the encampment. Lloyd stirred but didn't wake, and Raine answered with a softened tone. "I teach him about magitech engineering. Also, mathematics. And history. I suppose I ought to mention we started with him learning to read."

"You taught him to read?" Anna smiled. "That's impressive. It's more than I could ever do."

"It wasn't too much of a feat, as soon as he set his mind to it," Raine answered.

"I knew it would be like that. Lloyd has his difficulties, but it's only because so few things hold his interest."

"I've noticed. But he's proven he can learn, if he works at it. He's also a rather knowledgable mechanic." The woman took a sip of her coffee. "But I never taught him that."

"Neither did I," Anna replied. "He learned that on his own." She took a moment to glance down at her son, who stirred sleepily. She sipped her coffee a few times and smiled. "Did you put rum in this?"

Raine smirked, and Anna decided she liked this weird, half-blood woman.

* * *

It took a while to get the camp and all its inhabitants packed up and moved to the northern sea. Which was just as well for Anna, since she couldn't move very fast in her condition anyway. She had been sedentary for so long, so weak and unsteady in her drained legs, she had almost forgot how it felt to take a long hike. She had only been able to walk from one end of the prison yard to the other at any given time. Kratos had made sure she'd been spared the hard labor, so her job at the ranch was mostly to sit around and incubate her exsphere. She wondered if now that she was active it would grow any faster. She hoped not. She still had so many plans, so many years ahead of her to watch her son grow up.

Lloyd walked between Anna and Raine, switching between conversations with them both seamlessly, endlessly. His oud hung unplayed across his back. Occasionally he'd reach over and grasp Anna's hand, asking her if she was okay.

She didn't know what to tell him. The pain of the exphere's growth had increased markedly in the past few weeks. Every time she looked at her hand, she saw the swollen, wrinkled skin had spread. She had seen this whole process before, and knew that in a few months the greenish, afflicted area would grow up to her shoulder. When that happened, it was hard to tell how long someone had left. She didn't know if cutting off her hand now would stop the spread of the exphere's particulates; at this stage, it was probably already in her blood. Unless Kratos could perform some sort of miracle like he had when her old exsphere had taken over, she wouldn't be around for long. But for the remainder of her life, she vowed not to leave her son's side. She would stay here, holding his hand and debating with herself whether or not to tell him she was fine, or to tell him the truth.

She always settled on telling him she was better than she'd been in a long time. There was enough truth to the statement that she didn't feel bad for lying to him. He seemed satisfied by the answer, although he would often glance down at her exsphere with a pained look on his face.

Her husband had remained suspiciously absent. Anna did not know if he was merely afraid to spend time with his son once again, or if he was required to march ahead, with Yuan and Forcystus. It wouldn't surprise her; apparently he had much to discuss with them, and they probably wanted to keep an eye on him for any funny business. She didn't know if she was relieved that he wasn't around, or nervous. Lloyd did not seem to care one way or another about his presence, but she wished Kratos could at least confront his own son about his misdeeds. Perhaps that would finally put to rest the tension that, even with one absent, Anna could feel rising between the two. She did not want to have to throw herself between her son and her husband—at least, not again. She knew that if it came down to it she'd choose Lloyd over Kratos, the same way that Kratos had chosen Lloyd over her.

"Are you all right, _el__á__?_" he asked her, squeezing her arm. Anna looked over at him, dressed in his snug Desian uniform, and had to marvel at the strangeness of it all.

"Better than I've been in a long time," she answered, as usual.

He sighed. "You always say that. I mean _right now_. Are you fine right now? Do you need to stop? Do you need any water?"

"No. We're almost at the sea anyway, right? I can wait until then."

"Well, okay. But if you need anything, just ask me."

Anna's heart swelled at the solicitude of her son. It seemed that the time they had spent away from each other, the time he had spent in the company of Desians, hadn't changed him a bit. If anything, she would've supposed he changed the Desians, and her guess seemed to manifest itself in Lloyd's constant companion. Raine, whose hand he touched lightly when he didn't think anyone was looking—she, at least, seemed unlike the others.

When they reached the sea, Anna followed Raine away from the camp, toward the boats. Apparently she didn't do a very good job of sneaking, since halfway out of the camp Raine turned to her and asked what she wanted.

"Me? I just want to know more about you."

Raine crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow and sat down on a large piece of driftwood. "There's not much to know." Anna moved to sit next to her.

"Well, for one thing, what are you designs for my son?"

"I don't intend to make an honest man of him, if that's what you're asking."

Anna laughed. "I'm not asking that. I'm just curious about you. You seem out of place among Desians."

Anna could see a small smile cross her face. "That's what Lloyd said, too."

"Well, then, he's correct. If Lloyd likes you, then obviously you're different from the rest."

"I'm not that different." Raine twitched her boots in the sand, watching the tiny brown grains cover her toes.

Anna took a good, long look at the woman. "Hmm. I've seen your archetype before. Quiet, stoic, smart. Maybe a little cold. You probably read too much." Raine raised her eyes to Anna's, interested in the assessment. "In romantic plays, you're the distant, logical friend of the lovestruck maiden. In musicals you never sing. In horror tales you live the longest."

Raine smiled. "That sounds correct."

Anna shrugged. "I'm not a bad guesser."

"I see where Lloyd gets it, then." Raine looked down at her feet, smile spreading. "Some of the things that boy says amaze me."

"I'm going to tell you a secret," Anna said, slyly. "He got his smarts from his mother." Raine laughed, and Anna leaned in, resting a hand on her knee. "Raine. I don't know you very well, but I've got a knack for recognizing kindness when I see it. I won't ask you to be responsible for my son; he has to learn how to take care of himself, like all of us. But in all seriousness… after I… after I croak, he's going to need someone to lean on. So, please... just don't let him give up on himself."

"In so many different words, Kratos asked me the same thing."

"Then evidently you have our blessing." Anna smiled when Raine turned a little red. She stood up and made her way back across the beach, to where the Desian army, and her son, waited.

* * *

Lloyd didn't look forward to the hour when his father eventually cornered him for a conversation, but he accepted it as an inevitability. So far, Kratos had stayed under the watchful eye of Forcystus, leaving Lloyd mercifully alone to catch up with his mother. Now, as Anna slept in her small cabin deep in the metal hull of the Desian warship, Lloyd lingered on deck, underneath the star-spattered sky. The moon had already sunk behind the horizon, and a streak of galaxy shone clear above him.

Lloyd had to admit that standing under such bright stars may have baited Kratos, since stargazing was apparently the strongest habit he had. He wondered if all those years in Derris-Kharlan, he had been looking at the same constellations as his son, and had never known he was alive. Maybe, even in the ranch, when Anna fell asleep, he had crept out onto the outer wall and stared up at them, as Lloyd often did at night.

He didn't bother turning around when Kratos strode up behind him. The man said nothing—Lloyd wasn't sure if anything was worth saying at all at this point. So he simply looked up, hoping Kratos' eyes would follow. He still hadn't parsed all the details of his father's actions—he'd been so busy lately, he hadn't had the time to decide whether or not he should throw him off the boat if he got a chance.

Kratos' fingers glowed white in the starlight. He gripped the railing, following Lloyd's gaze upward, straight into oblivion.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Lloyd figured it might've been the only thing to say. He closed his eyes, unsure of how to reply. Kratos did it for him.

"I know you won't forgive me for everything I've done. And you shouldn't."

Lloyd sighed. "_El__á_ says I should be mad at her for attacking me when I was little, not at you for defending me. She says she willingly stayed at the ranch, so I wouldn't have to. I hate what you did, but… I know you did it for me."

Kratos frowned, lowering his eyes. "You don't have to make up excuses for me. Regardless of my intentions, I have still acted reprehensibly." He turned his back to the sea and stared down at the rusty deck. "I don't expect nor desire your forgiveness. All I want you to know is that I am sorry."

Lloyd almost laughed. "If you don't want forgiveness, what the hell is the point of apologizing?"

Kratos only grunted in reply.

"Look… Kratos," Lloyd started, tearing his eyes away from the sky. "I… I don't think I hate you. I know _el__á_ would've done the same thing to you, if she were in your position." Lloyd paused, marveling at the sentiment. Parental love seemed to be so incredibly confusing, like a power impossible to wield. "But I'm not ready to forgive you. Except…"

At Lloyd's pause, Kratos dared to touch his elbow. "What?"

"I'll forgive you on one condition. After this is all over, you have to save her from that exsphere."

Kratos seemed taken aback by the demand. He drew in a sharp breath, brow furrowing. "Very well. I will try my best. If I survive the release of Origin's seal."

"Trying isn't gonna cut it, Kratos," Lloyd said. "You're gonna help us beat Mithos. You're gonna save the world from the mana shortages. You're gonna live long enough to see that thing taken off her. You're the only one who's been able to take off an exsphere at that stage before. So you'd better not die until then."

Kratos smiled, nodding. "I could demand the same of you."

"Then we got ourselves a deal?" Lloyd held out his hand, fingers spread, and his father tentatively took it. Their handshake was firm, calm, and to Lloyd, a milestone. When he let go of Kratos' hand, his fingers twitched with newfound energy. Even considering Kratos' betrayals, his cowardice, his callousness—the man was at least capable. If anyone could help him revive his mother, it would be him.

At least, Lloyd could hope.

* * *

The Renegade base, so alive with activity, seemed to have been brought back from the dead. Yuan stood with his arms crossed, surveying the work, the repairs, the salvaging and the preparations. He had little time for himself, but he managed to slip into his office when Forcystus was distracted with more important things than keeping an eye on him. His engineers were keeping Forcystus busy with the logistics of inter-dimensional travel—it would still be a while before he would notice Yuan had slipped off on his own. He still had some time to make his call.

He picked up the communicator and hoped fervently Sheena was close enough to her own to hear him calling. For the first few agonizing seconds, Yuan was sure that she was not going to pick up, that she had died, or that she had completely shifted her allegiance to Forcystus in his absence. But when her face blipped onto his small screen, skin wan in the hospital light of the remote island ranch, he released a sigh of relief.

"Sheena, I'm glad to see you're all right."

She raised an eyebrow. She was much livelier than the last time he'd seen her, lying in the medical wing bed, stiff with pain. "I wasn't expecting a call from you, Yuan. Especially at this hour." She yawned and rubbed her puffy eyes.

"I wasn't expecting to have to call you. But this is urgent. I have a mission for you."

He could barely see her roll her dark eyes on the other side of the tiny screen. "I hate to break the news to you, Yuan, but I don't work for you anymore. Zelos is dead. The Sylvaranti Chosen is dead. Mizuho is in ruins. Forcystus is the only one who offers me meaningful tasks. He says when this is over I will be able to return home and help rebuild."

Yuan cleared his throat. "There will be no point to rebuilding if there is no mana left. Whatever you plant will die, whatever you construct will rot and fall apart."

"What are you saying?" Sheena's face blurred as the communicator briefly lost contact. When it reappeared, her eyes were opened wide, her mouth curved in a thoughtful frown.

"Sheena." Yuan grit his teeth, thinking deeply about what to say next. "The success of this operation depends on you. The survival of the world—both worlds—depends on you, right now. Forcystus doesn't know it, but I do."

Sheena narrowed her eyes, seemingly thinking it over. "What'll you have me do—I mean, if I accept."

"Make pacts with the Sylvaranti summon spirits."

Sheena's already ashen skin whitened even more. "All of them?"

"All of them."

"But won't that—"

"I'm well aware of what it will do. But you must trust me. We will need their power in the near future. The fate of this world, and yours, depends on it."

Sheena narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to decipher his intentions and verify his words through the screen. She eventually nodded. "Fine. I'll have to sneak out of here, though. I'm scheduled to meet up with you guys at the Flanoir base."

"Thank you, Sheena. I trust you, and wish you the best of luck."

She gave him something of a forced smile, before turning off the communicator. Her grimace stayed with him in his mind long after the screen faded to black.

He sighed, standing and stretching. Just to be sure, he dropped the little device on the floor and smashed it with the heel of his boot. When he had ground the communicator into a dust of a consistency that satisfied him, he left his office, nearly trotting down the hall. The hum of the facility had died down with the setting sun, and the quietness still surprised him. Sometimes he forgot that others had to sleep at night. He hadn't slept in years—decades, maybe. He still could, if he really tried, but he hadn't found the time recently. There was too much to do.

He flew down the hall, thinking of calling on Botta, but then decided to let the man have some sleep. Forcystus, too, would probably be resting during this hour. The only other person likely to be awake was Kratos.

So Yuan found himself at the door to the man's chamber, perhaps out of instinct. They kept it locked, even though Kratos was not going anywhere, not with his family in Forcystus' custody. Yuan didn't see the point of keeping him confined, so when he opened the door to his room (Yuan, of course, had all the codes to all the base's doors), he didn't bother locking it behind him.

The door swished open, and he found Kratos kneeling against the wall, ear pressed to the metal. His eyes were closed, his breathing virtually nonexistent. His ears perked up when he heard Yuan enter, and he opened one narrow eye to look at him. He didn't move, didn't speak.

Yuan stood at the doorway, arms crossed, twitching his ears. He heard muffled voices from the wall on which Kratos leaned. Rather than echo around the room, they percolated the wall like so many tiny particles. The words were more suggestions of sound than anything, but with his angelic senses, Yuan could make out the exchange of conversation.

He recognized Lloyd's voice, and took a step forward. Kratos was not disturbed, he merely closed his eyes again and continued listening.

"I don't know, _el__á_. I don't like it."

Yuan recognized their dialogue as Trieti immediately. Lloyd could often be found close to Anna, holding her hand and speaking softly to her in a language few understood. Yuan, as the overseer of the desert base, spoke Trieti fluently, of course. But as he looked into Kratos' face, at his smooth expression, he knew that the man did not understand—at least not completely.

He might've once spoken an ancient form of the language during the Kharlan War, but that dialect was all but lost to the spirits. Tongues and cultures changed, sometimes faster than Yuan could imagine. Things seemed to speed up the older he got, the farther he wandered from the time of their great triumph, the planetary schism. The years had blurred so badly after he'd lost Martel. He imagined it must've been the same for Kratos after he lost his family.

"Oh, Lloyd, don't punish yourself for things that aren't your fault."

"But they _are_. You've said it yourself. Ezra and Barra said it a lot, too, and it was true. I'm easy to trick. I'm naïve. If I hadn't been so gullible, you wouldn't have gone to the ranch at all. Now…."

Kratos sat, listening intensely. Perhaps he could infer the content of the conversation based solely on tone. Even if not, the dialogue made his brow furrow slightly. Yuan leaned a little closer.

"You know, your father was the same way. But you're better than he was. He always put his trust in the wrong places. Whenever he made his assumptions and placed his bets, he always based them on the worst possible outcome. He thought that everything would turn out as badly as it conceivably could." Yuan heard a quiet laugh. "But, contrary to all logic, things always turned out a little worse than he thought possible."

A long sigh drowned out the silence after her words.

"But you're different," she continued. "You're a lot more thoughtful than he is. You aren't driven by hopelessness. And that's why it's okay."

"It's not okay! Nothing is okay!"

Yuan smiled. He had heard many iterations of this same conversation, thousands of years ago. Mithos had voiced similar concerns about his own deeds and his own naïveté. He had been uncompromising, headstrong, insistent—dissatisfied with anything other than perfect justice. Yuan knew if Lloyd kept that up, he was in for a very disappointing future. Disappointing at best, cataclysmic at worst.

"Lloyd…" Anna's voice softened, and Yuan had to strain to hear. "It's too late now. Just try your best to fix the mistakes you've already made. Don't hurt yourself for them. Learn from them."

"I know… I just—" Lloyd cut himself off. A silence permeated the room for a minute, before he spoke again. "Hey, _el__á_, now that we're close to home, should we go back to Triet and see Barra? We have time before they get the rheiards up and running."

Anna swallowed so hard Yuan could hear it though several layers of metal wall. "That would be nice, but… he doesn't have to see me in this state. He'll get all mopey and worried. You know how he does that."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But… maybe we can just write him a letter instead. Raine tells me she taught you to write. Show me what you've learned."

"All right."

An excited scramble, a few scratches of pen on paper, a few satisfied "hmm"s from Anna. Yuan drew his attention back to his own room, and eyed Kratos, still kneeling across from him. His eyes remained closed, his ear pressed firmly to the wall.

"Would you like me to translate?" he asked.

"No."

Yuan smiled. "Are you worried about what they're saying? About you?"

Kratos opened his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep."

A cynical smile passed over the man's face. He knew they both remembered all those nights during the War, when nobody slept, and all the nights after, when the screams and sounds of explosions and the whistling of magitech rockets, unwelcome, had stayed with Yuan. Kratos had been there for him when he awoke, panting, so sure that the sweat pouring down his face was blood. For months, years, Kratos had been at his side, assuring him it was all over. Martel, too. And Mithos. Dear Mithos, so earnest, so eager to heal him.

The quick, Trieti babble had all but faded into the night. When he was sure he could no longer listen to his family, Kratos tore himself away from the wall, sighing.

"Are you ready?" Yuan asked him. "Are you ready to confront Origin?"

"Not at all," Kratos answered, almost absentmindedly. "Not after all we did."

Yuan chuckled. "He is not going to be impressed with us. Splitting the world, creating competition for mana and manufacturing a whole religious paradigm to justify it. We may have tricked plenty of people into believing what we did was right—ourselves included—but Origin is not so easy to deceive."

"I know he isn't." Kratos lifted his head. "He will judge us according to his standards. There is no way we will not fail."

"I'm not sure if we even need to make a pact with him," Yuan said. "We just need to convince him to end his pact with Mithos. He might be more than willing to bend the rules to get out from under that boy's heel."

"You're probably right."

Kratos turned his head away, leaning against the wall. Even Yuan could hear that his family was asleep. "If I have to pay the ultimate price for Origin to abandon Mithos, do not stop me."

Yuan grimaced. "If it can't be helped, I won't. But don't use death as an excuse to shirk your duty."

"My duty?"

"To clean up your mess. Our mess."

Kratos sighed. "I know. I won't."

"Good." Yuan stood. He turned on his heels, and with Kratos still against the wall like he was trying to melt into it, and left. He shut the door behind him and didn't look back.


	55. Flight through Snow

Lloyd did not expect the Tethe'allan base to hold such wonders for him. They had arrived from the Sylvarant side hours ago, and all he had done in that time was press himself up against the window of his small room, completely engrossed in the scenery. Flakes of what looked like bright white ashes floated from the grey sky, twisting into spirals by torrents of icy wind. The crests and valleys of snowdrifts reminded him of the white sand of Triet. Even with his mother in her room down the hall, he still felt the ache of homesickness in his gut. His hands were cold against the glass, his sight blurred from the sun's harsh rays reflecting off the expanse of snow. In the distance, he could make out dark spots of rock beneath mounds of white.

"Is this the first time you've seen snow?" He turned to see Raine emerge from the shadows of the doorway, arms crossed.

"Yeah," he answered. "It kinda just looks like white sand."

"It's pretty different," she said. She strode up to him and stood beside him, leaning against the window almost as eagerly as he did. "The snow is my favorite," she said quietly. She spoke into the glass, into the distance, as if she was not expecting him to hear her. He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers, to remind her of his presence. "My earliest memory is of my family digging a cave in the side of a snowbank. I thought it was in good fun, but I suspect now that we slept in there because we have nowhere else to go."

"Raine…"

Her eyes stayed put on the mountainous rocks jutting from the sea, capped in white. "After a while, when we scraped the sides smooth, they iced over and turned blue. I loved the way the light came through it, like stained glass. That's when I first learned snow was water. My father told me." Lloyd intertwined his fingers in hers, but let her continue on her own, when she was ready. "I don't remember why we were here in the first place, digging in the snow. I think… I think it was because my mother was sick. There's a doctor in Flanoir who's been practicing for decades. He's supposed to be the best in the world."

Deep in Lloyd's head, an idea took root.

"As far as I recall, my mother recovered on her own. And we needed to keep moving, no matter what. We didn't stay here long, although I wanted to."

"It is beautiful here," Lloyd admitted.

"And quiet. I don't think they'll let you outside, but one day you have to stand in the middle of a snowy field and just listen."

"What does it sound like?"

"Nothing." Raine closed her eyes, smiling at whatever memories danced before her eyes, rang in her ears. Lloyd could not stop his fingers from reaching to the upturned corners of her mouth. She clasped his hand and kissed it lightly, soft lips tracing the hills of his knuckles. Her breath brushed his exsphere, and it pulsated with his elevating heartbeat. He leaned toward her, cupping her face in his hands.

It was not with the usual fumbling urgency that they undressed one another. The snow had instilled the air with calmness and some degree of grace, and the silence of the base had them lingering to listen to each other's breathing. Their bodies did not part until the late evening, when Raine lay limp on his bed, fully surrendered to her own fatigue. Lloyd kissed her forehead, stroking her white hair back from her cheeks, before he crept over to her discarded clothes and stole her keycard from her uniform pocket.

* * *

"Oi, _el__á_."

Anna pulled herself out of her strained reverie. She forced her eyes open, still caked with sleep, and sat up. "What… what time is it?"

"It's almost midnight."

When her son came into view through her fading haze of tiredness, she saw he was bundled tightly in a puffy white parka, gloved and hooded. His large, white scar shone taut in the dim light. "What's happening? Why are you dressed like a wedding cake?"

"We're going on a little trip," he said, producing a soft bundle. She took it and unfolded it, and found that it was a similar parka, equally ridiculous, equally warm. She pulled herself to her tired feet and fed her arms through the sleeves. Lloyd handed her a pair of gloves and she slid her hands into them, slowly recovering her full consciousness.

"Are you going to spring me?" she asked. "Are we going to make a break for it and leave everything behind?"

He stopped before her door, turning his head slightly. "Do you want to?"

"More than anything." She smiled, allowing him to take her statement in whatever way he wished, and he led her out into the hall.

"We need to be silent," he told her. "Just like back at the ranch."

Anna perked up, eyes narrowing, and tried to become lighter on her feet. Her heart thumped against her ribcage, muffled by the thick layers of down that surrounded her. She shut her mouth, following her son down the hall and to a small door. He reached over and swiped a card against the apparatus glowing at its side. It failed to provide any indication of the card working, but the door slid open anyway.

He led her through what seemed to be some sort of garage. Instead of metal or concrete, the floor consisted of a thin layer of muddy snow, on which a couple dozen small vehicles stood. Lloyd led her to the farthest one, sharp and elongated. It boasted blades and a long belt along its underside in place of wheels. Lloyd climbed up in front, gesturing for her to sit behind him. She leaned against him, pulling her legs up over the leather seat, and he clicked a few buttons on the vehicle's strange steering mechanism. A sliver of starlight appeared before them, and he revved the engine, shrieking across the garage and to the outside world.

She couldn't help laughing as she clung to his waist, burying her face in the fur lining his white hood. She raised her eyes to the sky, marveling at the countless constellations, the familiar galaxy hovering far overhead, stars glowing like a spill of fluorescent marbles. The roaring of the engine was too loud for her to point out stars to her son, and he needed to watch where he was going anyway.

After traversing a particularly serpentine ice bridge between their base's isle and what struck her as the mainland, he slowed down, letting the snow machine idle while he turned back to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered. "But I'm wondering what this is about."

He squinted across the vast expanse of snow, lit silver by the infinite lights in the sky. "Flanoir's supposed to be a little ways away from here," he said. His breath condensed white in the freezing air. "There's a doctor there who's the best in the world. He might be able to help you with your exsphere."

"Really?" Anna doubted it. She'd never heard of anyone surviving an exsphere implant at this stage, but then again, Kratos' slapdash amputation procedure had worked once. Maybe there was hope out there.

"Yeah. I know it's hard to believe, but Tethe'alla has some incredible technology. It wouldn't surprise me if they have a way to remove your exsphere."

Anna tightened her grip around his waist. "We can hope. Does anyone else know about this little escapade of ours?" He shook his head, and Anna smiled. "So, how did you manage to sneak under their radar?"

"Uh, I stole a keycard, knocked out a few guards, rewired the garage's security system and just booked it."

"That's my boy," Anna said, leaning on his back. She closed her eyes as he sprung the motor back to life, and they lurched forward, across the flat white wasteland, spraying snow behind them in a powdery cloud. Anna wondered how much of Tethe'alla was covered in snow. Obviously not all of it, since Kratos had given her wine grown in a warm, dry central regions.

She wondered if Kratos had heard them leave. Probably. He might come after them, unwilling to let his son fulfill the promise he had made to her ages ago, the promise to show her the other, prospering world.

Anna leaned across Lloyd's shoulder, shouting over the roar of the engine and into his ear. "With us gone, there's nothing keeping Kratos cooperative at the base," she told him. He slowed, quieting the engine's sputters to listen to her. "He might just kill everyone and make a break for it."

"Yeah," Lloyd half-shouted back. "Part of me hopes that'll happen."

"What about that Raine woman? You like her."

"She can take care of herself, _el__á_. She's strong."

Anna looked behind her, at the dim lights of the base shrinking into the distance, swallowed by the brighter, stronger lights of the snowbanks lit up in the glinting sky. "I know," she said, shivering. She snuggled herself tighter against her son's back. Pangs of cold made their way up her absent arm—somehow, even after all these years, she still hadn't gotten completely used to missing it. It seemed to be trying to tell her things she already knew—she didn't need a frozen left arm to tell her it was cold out.

Snow sprayed in their wake, sharp and dry, powdery as confectioner's sugar. She watched their surroundings and counted all the disparate, marvelous shades of white, before they faded to orange in the rising sun. Freezing wind bit her skin, and she reburied her face in the puffs of Lloyd's coat.

They sputtered to a stop outside a city sometime in the early afternoon. Lloyd pulled the machine into the shade of a grey stone arch, removing the keys and letting the vehicle sleep. Anna slid down from the seat, feet sinking into the snow. Her stomach rumbled, her bones ached with cold. Lloyd dropped down beside her, gasping at the feel of snow swallowing his boots.

"It's a lot different than the sand, isn't it?" Anna said.

"Yeah, but it kind of looks similar." He slipped his arm around Anna's shoulders and led her toward the town's gate. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the tips of the tall buildings, so much bigger than those in Luin, Asgard, or even Palmacosta. She had heard stories of the wealth and majesty of the prospering world, but she had a difficult time imagining a town this big. Any human settlements that had grown too large were promptly dismantled by the nearest Desian legion. Not since the Sylvarant Dynasty were there human societies large and productive enough to erect such tall and numerous buildings, or with such attention taken for detail, to beauty. Anna could never imagine a Sylvaranti town boasting buildings of such intricate stone design, or backlit stained glass windows. The residents of Sylvarant built for practicality, for affordability—each building was constructed with its eventual destruction by Desians in mind. There seemed to be little room for anything but parsimony in Sylvaranti architecture. The Palmacostan theatre was the only exception, in her recollection. Anna nearly tripped over her own son when a particularly intricate statue of a gargoyle caught her eye. It stood proudly above what she might assume was mansion or a small hotel, staring down at her with two bright green lights for eyes. She could not tell if they were lit by magic, fire, or some other mechanism.

"Watch your step, _el__á_," Lloyd told her, grabbing her hand and dodging a mound of snow piled in front of her.

"Heh, sorry Lloyd. I guess I'm just not used to seeing cities like these."

"I was the same way when I first saw a Tethe'allan town," he replied. "They had machines everywhere. Pipes running up the walls, electric lights in every house. I was so amazed I could barely function. And that wasn't even one of the bigger towns. Neither is this."

"Gods, I can't imagine what is."

"Never been, but after this is all done, I'll take you there. Raine says the biggest city in Tethe'alla is Meltokio. That's where the king lives."

Anna smiled, clenching her hand around Lloyd's. Her exsphere stung slightly. "Yes, let's do that. After we have everything figured out."

"First thing's first…" Lloyd mumbled. "We need to find the doctor."

He started to ask around, stopping a couple wading arm in arm through a particularly thick snowbank beside the road. Perhaps they were making their way to some more private place, before her son practically jumped in between them, demanding to know where the resident physician lived. The startled couple pointed vaguely in one direction, and Lloyd dragged Anna down the street toward their indication, disallowing her to take in any of the sights and sounds of the snowy city.

"Sheena says the summon spirit Celsius lives around here," Lloyd said.

"Sheena? Who's that?"

"She's… she's just a summoner. She works for Forcystus."

"He's got summoners working for him now, does he?" Anna mutered. "That ought to turn the tables a little." She'd heard Mithos was a summoner, before he lost his mind and became the angelic tyrant Yggdrasill, watching the worlds wax and wane and cannibalize one another's mana. Kratos had often mentioned the boy Mithos, but rarely brought up the man Yggdrasill.

"Here it is," Lloyd pointed to a large cabin, half buried in snow, windows glowing welcomely. Icicles crept around the sides of a small sign with a medical insignia. A dozen or so people lined up at the door, each boasting their own symptoms of one ailment or another: coughing, spasms, bulges of near-term pregnancies. One woman had her arm wrapped tightly against her chest in a sling, another bent over her abdomen, clutching at it and occasionally letting out a hiss of pain.

Lloyd sighed and got in line. Anna stood beside him, arm in his, and they waited, and waited, for agonizing hours. Just as dusk settled over the town, dyeing the snows a deep gold, the door to the office opened and the patient before them left with a bag of medicine. A short, grey-haired man beckoned them inside.

Anna could barely keep her heart still as she considered the possibility that she might be freed from her exsphere. After all, if Tethe'allans had managed to build such a magnificent city, here in the barren snows no less, it was likely that they had medical technology far surpassing that of Sylvarant. So when she sat down on his examining chair and held out her hand for him, it was with an almost proud air of hope.

He adjusted his round glasses, staring at her skin. He "ahh"ed and "hmm"ed, turning her hand over, muttering to himself for what Anna could only guess was far too long. When he finally dropped her hand back onto the armrest, he lowered his eyes with a discouraging sigh.

"It's quite advanced," he said, expressionlessly. "I haven't actually seen any this far progressed—usually a key crest is added far before the exsphere gets into this state."

Anna wondered if this person knew how exspheres were made. How implantation differed from mere utilization. She wondered if he'd ever seen a patient like her, or only had experience with irresponsible people who had decided to wear an exsphere with no key crest, not because they were forced to, but because they found it temporarily convenient.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Lloyd asked, leaning over the chair.

"No. It's progressed too far. Take some medicine to stop the pain, if there is any."

"There's quite a bit, actually," Anna said.

"Are you kidding?" Lloyd shouted. Anna reached out to him, laying her fingers on the crook of his elbow, trying to calm him. But with each second he seemed to bubble more and more intensely with disdain and despair. She didn't know if she could stop him.

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" the doctor crossed his arms. "I can prescribe some analgesics and antiemetics, but this woman is going to die."

"What do you mean? You're a goddamn doctor!" Lloyd's fist escaped Anna's grasp and he took a step toward the physician.

"Lloyd, stop—"

"What good is your profession if you can't help anyone?"

The doctor backed up, raising his arms defensively. "Seriously! What kind of idiot would wear an exsphere without a key crest anyway—"

Before Anna could stop him, Lloyd jerked forward, lifting his leg. His foot met the doctor's midsection, and the old man gasped, flying back into the wall. Lloyd was on him, with a movement of his arm quick as a flit of a bird's wing, he drew his knife and held it at the doctor's throat.

"If you ever say anything disparaging about my mother, I'll cut you ear to ear," he growled.

The doctor nodded, fidgeting and whimpering slightly. He raised his hands in supplication, fingers trembling.

"Lloyd," Anna said, and her son turned back to her, sheathing his knife. "If there's nothing he can do, there's nothing he can do."

The doctor pulled himself away from the wall, shaking, red-faced with fury. "Get out. Both of you, get out, or I'm going to call the authorities."

Lloyd smirked joylessly. "Weren't you gonna give her some medicine?"

"No." When Lloyd's hand wandered to the hilt of his knife, the doctor changed his mind. "If I give you what you need, will you get out?" He turned to the shelves lining the walls, and swallowed, visibly shaking. He looked like his head would burst.

Lloyd nodded. The doctor grumbled to himself, rattling the shelves as he scrambled to find the right medicines. He returned with two dark bottles, shoved them in Lloyd's open hand, and showed them the door.

He practically manhandled them out into the snow before slamming the door behind them. A small bank of snow fell from the sloped roof at the sudden jolt, landing with a white puff behind them.

"Well," Anna smiled. "At least we got drugs."

Lloyd looked over the bottles, frowning. "At least…" he squinted, trying to read the labels. She loved the way he read, hurriedly, intensely. She loved the urgency with which he wrote, as if he were chasing his own letters across the page before they outran him. His handwriting was rushed and messy, but, she supposed if he'd been trained as a scientist with his Desian companion, she should expect as much. Long ago, when she fled Forcystus' ranch with her son, the caravaner with the degree in biology had told her that all scientists have terrible handwriting—although she was too focused on getting out of Iselian territory at that point to consider the thought that scrupulously.

"I don't even know what these are," Lloyd said, struggling through the words. "But if he just cheated us, I'll be back to teach him a lesson."

Anna sighed, wrestling the bottles from her son. "Don't do that, Lloyd." His strong fingers relinquished hold of the bottles, and she read them. She couldn't recognize the ingredients on them, but she would find out if they worked soon enough. She glanced up at her son, whose face had softened from an indignant grimace to a guilty frown.

"Or maybe I won't." He sighed, taking her arm and leading her toward the town. "That's something my father would do, isn't it?"

"Admittedly, yes." Anna held him close as they walked under the soft canopy of lights, blurred and reflected in softly falling snow. The sun had set a while ago, and the lights of the city were taking its place, one by one, illuminating the streets gold and blue. "I'm sure these will do nicely. I just have to find something to wash them down with."

Lloyd stopped suddenly, a few snowflakes gathering in his dark hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He turned to her, and she could see his eyes water slightly.

She reached out and touched his cheek. "Don't worry, Lloyd. It's not your fault."

He sniffed. "There will be other doctors. Not here, maybe, but in Meltokio. It's the biggest city in the world. Someone there will be able to help you."

"Thank you, _ahmun_. But I think what I need right now is to forget about doctors. How about a night on the town? It's so beautiful here—just think of it as making up for the play we never got to see together." She stuck her stub between his arm and his torso and used her other to point to a small restaurant in the distance. "It looks like they have food over there." She squinted. "And wine."

She waited for Lloyd's contorted face to smooth over in to a smile, and he followed her toward the cafe, windows lit warmly with a yellow glow. "Do you have any money?" Anna asked when she saw the prices labeled on the wines in the window.

"I have some." He produced a large handful of gold.

"Gods, Lloyd! Where did you get that much?"

"I saved it up here and there," he answered proudly.

"You parsimonious little thing," Anna smiled.

She entered the building and drank in the infinite glint of a thousand bottles. She decided that despite the cold, they'd start with a white from Altamira.

They ended with two clay mugs of a hot mulled red, gifted to them freely from a friendly seller. He sent them in the direction of the season's ice sculpture display, insisting the wine would keep them warm. He said his uncle submitted a sculpture every year—round, uninterpretable, avant-garde things—they inevitably won the contests, but he would never understand why. Anna, intrigued, thanked him for the information and led her half-drunk son out into the street.

"I ate way too much," Lloyd said, with an uncouth burp. Anna matched it.

"Me too," she smiled. She watched him sip his cup of mulled wine. "How is it?"

"It's fine. It's… I'm used to… whisky."

Anna burst out laughing. "Not only to you learn to read and write while I'm gone, but you become an incorrigible drinker!" She tugged him close. "Pretty soon you'll start writing novels. You'll lock yourself up in a hotel room like a proper author, and pump out the most somber tales of lost loves and dead relatives. You can write one about me."

"I wouldn't be very good at it." He laughed. "But you really want me to…"

"I think you're probably too honest to be a writer," she said. "Look over there. That must be the sculpture the barkeep's uncle made." She took a sip of her mulled wine and walked among the sculptures, marveling at the way the lights danced through them.

"It is kinda… weird," Lloyd agreed when they stopped at the round, minimalistic sculpture. "I don't really get it."

"That's art for you." Anna sat down on a bench nearby and pulled out one of her medicine bottles. "In Palmacosta at the theater we once tried to do one of those silent plays. Didn't quite go right." She struggled with the bottle for a moment before Lloyd leaned over and opened it for her. She popped a few in her mouth and drank them down. The wine left a warm, thick taste in her mouth, and she had to clear her throat to continue. "After that we just stuck to the usual."

"You keep saying 'the usual,' but I don't even know what that means," Lloyd said. "I haven't seen enough plays to even guess."

"Oh, you'll see plenty of them in your life. If you're any son of mine you'll probably hang out at the theater more than you mean to." She leaned on his shoulder, clenching her hand to assuage some of the pain. "You should take Raine to see something sometime."

It pleased her to see him turn red. "She's not really into that sort of thing. I don't think."

"Well, you never know. It grows on you." Anna yawned, shivering. "Hey, did you see the church on the hill? It looks warm in there. We should go and look at the stained glass."

"All right."

They made their way up the hill, finishing their wine on the way. They reached the large doors of the church and found them unlocked. "Midnight service, I guess," Anna said. They pushed their way inside and sat quietly in the farthest pew, where they got the best view of the stained glass, lit by the lights of the did a poor job of paying attention to the sermon.

"They'll be out looking for us by now, I think," Lloyd said.

"Yes, I suppose so." Anna yawned, laying her head on her son's shoulder. It was strong and sturdy, like his father's. She could only hope that after she was gone, he would lend this shoulder to provide comfort to many people in the future. Maybe the Desian sniper. Maybe someone else. Maybe his children, maybe his father. Someone…

"Gods, I'm tired," she said, as the service ended. The crowd got up and filed out, slowly, talking quietly. No one looked at them, and after a few minutes, they were alone in the church.

"It's weird, isn't it? This whole Church of Martel thing," Lloyd muttered. He stayed silent for a while, cradling her head. "Did you know about her?"

"Yes. I did."

"Explains why you never went to her temple. You knew she was just another woman, didn't you?"

"From what I've heard, she was quite an extraordinary woman, though."

"Did Kratos tell you?"

Anna nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes. He told me about her, and Mithos, and his old friend Yuan. And..." She settled on his coat, eyes drooping. The tincture she had taken earlier was doing its work in her blood. She could barely keep upright, blurry colors swallowing her sight. They came from the grand stained glass windows, and they cushioned her like so many clouds. A tingling sensation crept from her exsphere, up her arm.

Lloyd's hand wrapped around hers, his exsphere glowing as it came into proximity with her own. She thanked him silently for putting the damnable thing to good use. She sighed into his shoulder, sinking deeper into her coat, until she couldn't hold her head up any longer.

* * *

Anna looked so pale, so thin, leaning on his shoulder. Lloyd could barely guess how she survived this long. She seemed to be eating normally, but she never gained any weight. It was that damnable exsphere, it was sucking all her sustenance. He grimaced, looking down at his own. Perhaps if he hadn't had the audacity to wear it, the gods wouldn't have seen fit to put one back on her, too. But he knew he had to keep it on. He had to wear his as long as she wore hers. Then, when both she and the world were safe, he could remove it.

He lifted his head when the unsullied light of the stained glass suddenly darkened. It was only by a sliver, but it was enough to make him glance to the aisle. He saw a thin, shadowy figure standing against the light, arms crossed. When it removed its coat, he could make out familiar curves, easily recognizable white hair sticking out every which way.

Lloyd raised his finger to his lips as Raine strode up to them. He glanced once more to his sleeping mother, curled on the pew, breathing shallowly, soundlessly. He pulled a grey hair away from her face, but it tumbled back into place, defiant.

Raine leaned on the bench in front of them. "What did the doctor say?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes, shining wisely, and had to smile. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he asked.

"Well, I am the one who put the idea in your head in the first place," she replied, taking a moment to smirk before adopting a more serious countenance. "Did he help her, though?"

Lloyd shook his head. "He said there wasn't anything he could do."

Raine leaned over him and grabbed the small bottle poking slightly out of his coat pocket. Raine pulled it out and read the label. "He at least gave her some pretty strong analgesics. Good ones, hard to get. How much did you pay for this?"

Lloyd bit his lip, a hot shiver trembling up his spine. "I… didn't."

Raine narrowed her eyes. "You robbed the doctor?"

"Yes—no. Sort of. I kind of… threatened them out of him."

Raine chuckled softly, before returning the bottle. She sat beside Lloyd, tilting her head to get a better view of Anna. "Well, it looks like you got the job done."

Lloyd sighed, raising his free hand to his face. "Looking back on it… it was a little embarrassing. It seemed like something my father would do. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to turn out like him."

Raine shrugged before letting her hand settle on his knee. "Lloyd, you're not your father—just like I'm not mine. He was a coward who couldn't handle the thought of raising half-blood children. He tossed us to the winds… but I never did that. Even when I wanted to, even when my brother endangered us with his carelessness. Even when I knew, without a doubt, that I would be better off without him, I didn't leave him. Because I am not my parents—and you aren't yours."

Lloyd sighed. "I know… I just hate the thought of…" Lloyd lost his sentence somewhere in his mind. He tried to follow his mother's eyes, twitching under her lids.

"I can assure you your fears are mostly insubstantial," Raine said, crossing her legs, draping an arm over his shoulder. "Do you know what it's like having a literal madwoman for a mother?"

Lloyd shrugged. "My mother was always a little crazy."

"Not like mine. Your mother is bold, honest, brave, remarkably clever… These are often mistaken for insanity. But mine, mine doesn't know what year it is. She thinks she's still pregnant with Genis."

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"It's things like that… that can be hereditary. Those are things you should fear." Raine squeezed him, and he, in turn, instinctively squeezed his mother. "Whatever it is that makes Kratos behave like he does is not passed down, believe me. Four thousand years of war and trauma are likely not in your blood at birth." Raine looked away. "My mother's latent madness, maybe. I'll wait a few years and see."

Lloyd sighed. "Are you sure _she_ was born with it, though? You can't know she didn't go mad because of the guilt of what she did to you and your brother. Or the sadness at losing her family."

"Perhaps…" Raine sighed, pulling her arm from Lloyd's shoulders and wringing her hands.

"I think you should forgive her," Lloyd dared to say. The look Raine gave him was softer than he had expected.

"You think so?" She paused, then smiled. "Give me a reason."

"What she did to you was horrible," Lloyd started. "But she did it for your good, right? She did it because she thought you and your brother would have a better life in Sylvarant, didn't she?"

Raine nodded.

"So… maybe she made a mistake. Maybe it was a big, big mistake. But… if she hadn't done it, I don't know if I would've met you. So I think you should forgive her. She only had your best interest at heart."

Raine's eyes widened, almost silvery in the strange light of the church. Lloyd saw the corners of her mouth curl, and her lip trembled slightly. She grimaced, as if trying to keep from crying out, but when she could no longer contain herself, she released a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lloyd asked. He quickly glanced over to see if Raine had woken up his mother. She was still sleeping soundly, probably deep under the influence of her medicine.

Raine waited for her own chuckled to die down. "You're such a hypocrite."

"What?"

"Here you are, preaching to me about how I should forgive my parents for their mistakes, but you've been carrying around the sins of your father like a weight on your back. Lloyd… I will try to understand my parents. But you need to take your own advice, and try, just _try_, to forgive your father. After all, he only had your best interest at heart."

Her sly look made Lloyd's heart beat a little faster. Leave it to Raine to catch him in his own trap. "I am trying. I haven't killed him yet." He said it as if he should be proud. "I've gotten along with him so far on our journey."

"It's a good start, Lloyd. But…" Raine's smile faded, her laughter long gone. "Trust me. I didn't have a lot of time with my father. You still have time with yours. Use it while you can."

Lloyd stared ahead, thinking of Kratos, back at the Renegade base, no doubt panicking over the sudden disappearance of his family. Lloyd wondered why Raine showed up instead of him—he would've expected to see his shadow at the periphery of his vision at any point. Kratos seemed to be so good at stalking them anyway. "Did you come on your own?" he asked Raine.

"Forcystus sent me. He noticed both of you were gone."

"You didn't tell him you're the one that let me know about the doctor here?"

"Of course not. But I volunteered to come get you. Forcystus fears that if you and your mother aren't around, Kratos will turn on us. You're our leverage, you know."

"I know."

"So we'd best go back, before your father makes his great escape."

"Please, Raine," Lloyd said. "Just give us a little while. _El__á_ needs to sleep for a bit."

She nodded and stood. "Let's say I just had a very difficult time finding you." She made her way back toward the giant oak doors of the chapel. "Don't be too long. You can meet me at the city gates in a few hours."

"Thanks, Raine," he smiled. She gave him her best Desian salute and exited the church, leaving him alone with his mother and the strange, charged silence of the cathedral.


	56. Into the Forest

Exhausted, sweating with effort and the heat of Efreet's hellfire, Sheena fell to her knees. She sighed, feeling the summon spirit's energy surge through her.

"I accept your pact."

"Yeah, thanks," she panted. She wiped sweat from her forehead, but whatever moisture she flicked from her skin was replaced a second later.

Efreet himself had disappeared, but his voice still rang in her ears. "I will shield you from the heat, at least."

"That's polite of you," she said, trembling to her feet. She put her hands behind her head, catching her breath as she made her way across the stone bridges, through the flame-lit passageways, back toward the entrance of the shrine. "Last one," she breathed.

It had been a difficult task. But with all the Sylvaranti spirits in her pocket, she could finally return to Yuan, finally get this work over and done with. Then she could go home.

All the spirits had warned her of what she was doing. She knew the consequences of her actions, she knew severance of the mana links led to the worlds falling away from one another. But if that's what had to be done, she would do it. Besides, it didn't matter in the long run, if Yuan reunited the worlds and replanted the Great Tree, like he said he would.

"You are aware of what you have done," Efreet said, voice booming in her head. She was used to having spirits crowded in there, reading her mind, sorting through her motives and her recollections.

"Yeah. I know. But I had to do it."

At first it had been strange, having spirits glide through her brain like water. But it was the price she paid for being able to call on them for assistance. They needed to hear her thoughts in order to respond to her summons.

After her first pact, she tried to keep her own memories private. But nothing could be hidden from Volt. He knew all about the pain she suffered when he destroyed half her town, when he killed her parents and brother. He had not cared, and he had not spoken. If she had not managed to subdue him at the end, he would've done worse, easily. She avoided summoning Volt whenever possible.

With each pact she made, she forfeited a little more of her inner privacy, but she gained a little more power. Efreet was the final spirit, besides Origin, of course—so by this time she was quite used to having them keep her company in her own mind. Most of them did not seem to care what she thought, and did not interfere with her emotional processing, but others would sometimes send waves of comfort through her when she found herself thinking of things better left forgotten.

Undine did this the most. She had a kind heart, Sheena knew. She was the first one she had formed a pact with since the incident at the mana cannon. Undine was not unfeeling, like Volt, she was not flippant, like Gnome, or hardened like Celsius, or uninterpretable, like Shadow.

When Sheena found herself thinking of that day Zelos turned on her, Undine sent waves of cool mental water through her. She could look at her memory of his face without faltering, without crying out. She could assess the way he avoided her major organs when he stuck her with his short sword. She remembered the way he withdrew the steel with a certain finesse, a certain delicacy. She could still hear clearly the reluctance in his voice, when he leaned in to kiss her ear. "I'm sorry," he said, before she fell.

Gods above, how did she not see it coming?

Now, in the overpowering heat of Efreet's shrine, she had to stop herself from dwelling on the recent past. She leaned against a wall and called Undine forth, pleading.

"Yes?" the water-woman sprang up from the ground in a twisting salute. The water on her skin evaporated into steam in the heat.

"I'd love some water," Sheena rasped between dry, cracked lips.

"Very well." Undine raised her hands and cupped them together, tipping them slightly over Sheena's open mouth. She gulped eagerly, draining Undine's hands dry.

"You are too kind to her." Efreet's voice echoed through the halls.

"And you are never kind enough," Undine replied, before disappearing in a sheet of mist.

Sheena, reinvigorated, moved on. The temple cooled, and she could feel the floor tilt up toward the surface. She knew she was close to reaching the exit.

"You know the last person who has entered my temple," Efreet told her, seemingly out of nowhere. He must've been sorting through her mind while she walked.

"Yeah?" she panted, dragging herself up a set of crumbling stairs.

"The boy pilfered my treasures and sold them like so much bric-a-brac."

Sheena blinked some sweat out of her eyes. "You mean Lloyd? He's from around here, he might've paid you a visit."

"That's him. The thief."

"Well, maybe the next time I see him, I'll tell him to give your stuff back to you."

"Ha. You'll tell him no such thing. I am Efreet, I've no need for trinkets and statuettes."

"Okay then." Sheena paused to catch her breath and smile a little. Summon spirits were odd creatures indeed, but she had gotten used to many of their hangups and quirks.

"He is on his way to see Origin at the moment, is he not?"

"How do you know?" Sheena could just make out a small circle of light at the end of her path. It seemed she'd made it back to the hole in the blasted wall.

"We spirits have many ways of talking to each other."

"Well, if you're on the line with Origin, will you put in a good word for us?" Sheena asked. "I've heard the guy's hard to please."

"He is indeed. However, I will ask him to consider your friend. Perhaps he will find the boy worthy. Perhaps not."

Sheena sighed. Say what you will about spirits, they at least didn't sugar-coat anything. Regardless of her appreciation of their brutal honesty, it still worried her knowing Yuan and his companions were going to see Origin without her. She knew they could not make a pact without a summoner, but she hoped at least they could make a good enough impression on the spirit to get him to annul his old one with Mithos. Sheena had convinced all the other spirits to do the same, and she wasn't exactly the best diplomat. She had faith Origin could be convinced.

"Stay strong, and good luck," she whispered half to herself, half to the members of her team on the other world, making their way toward the most powerful spirit of all.

* * *

The glassy waters of the Ymir forest glistened an almost ethereal green. Anna stopped to look into the strange pools, watching the slick shapes of foreign fish slither across the surface. Occasionally she would catch an unfortunate glance of herself, too thin and wan as a candlestick, and she would have to look away.

It was during one of these private viewings of her own progression toward emaciation that Raine decided to appear like an apparition behind her. Anna whipped around, catching the glint of a Desian helmet and instinctively jumping out of her skin. It always took her a few moments to realize that she was in their care—that she had nothing, or at least very little, to fear from them.

The small group of Desians Forcystus had elected to take with them to Heimdall gathered at the nearest bend in the ancient boardwalk, chatting amongst themselves. Forcystus stood at the forefront, addressing them in Elvish. Occasionally his eyes would wander to Anna's, and he would give her a respectful, almost contrite nod. She wondered if he was too proud to apologize to her for the five years she and her son spent imprisoned at his ranch, or if he merely couldn't spare the time. Maybe he had sent Raine to apologize for him.

The woman, silently, almost furtively, extended her hand to Anna. She glanced behind her to make sure none of the others were watching. "This is for you."

Anna took the object from Raine, turning it over in her hands. It seemed to be a standard-issue pistol, small and easily concealable, that many Desian soldiers carried.

"Protect yourself with it," Raine said.

"I don't know how to use one," Anna admitted.

"It's not that hard. Bullets come out the end of the barrel. Don't point it at yourself."

Anna held the gun with the tips of her fingers, trying to minimize contact with it. "Well… I suppose a lady ought to accessorize."

"Keep it close, don't lose it." Raine again glanced around once to make sure they hadn't been caught. "You're not supposed to have one, so keep it hidden. I had to sneak around quite a bit to secure you one."

Appreciation was never lost on Anna, but it was tainted with a healthy color of confusion. "Why are you doing this?"

Raine gave her something that may have resembled a smile in better circumstances. "You need to stay alive. For Lloyd."

"I hate to break it to you, but with this exsphere, I'm not going to last long."

"When this is all over, Lloyd will take you to a doctor in Meltokio. There will be someone there who can help you. I gave him a list of physicians and researchers in the capital and Sybak that will no doubt figure something out." Anna tilted her head, silently reminding Raine that she hadn't completely answered her previous question. She got the hint. "Anna, I'm leaving this world. I'm going to Derris-Kharlan, very soon. He won't have me anymore."

Anna's heart skipped a beat. "Really? You're going with them? With all the others? Are you sure?" Raine did not seem at home among her own kind, but Anna figured she might be the kind of woman who wasn't at home anywhere. Perhaps Derris-Kharlan was the closest thing Raine had to a call a homeland. It was the origin of all elven blood, after all.

"You're going to live, Anna. You have to." Raine seemed adamant, and Anna wasn't exactly willing to argue with a woman of her stringency. "You'll go to Meltokio. You'll get help. You'll take Lloyd back to the desert and resume your lives. And you'll forget about me."

Anna shook her head. "Lloyd will not forget. Hell, I haven't known you for very long, and I know I won't forget either."

"Then at least move on. Just think of me as dead."

Anna couldn't stop herself from reaching out to Raine. Her hand already occupied holding the gun, the most she could do was lay her stub on Raine's elbow. She seemed to get the point. "You're not one to equivocate, are you?"

Raine smiled. "Life's too short to beat around the bush."

"Well… you're right, I suppose." Anna slid the gun awkwardly into her waistband. "All right, Raine. Should you leave, and should I live, I will take care of him. But I won't let him forget the kindness you've shown both of us."

Raine's face darkened, turning a little red, and she stepped back toward the main contingent. With her strange, elegant march, she accompanied her compatriots on the advance to Heimdall.

* * *

"This is where Mithos is from," Kratos told Lloyd. He had straggled a fair bit behind the commanding unit to walk with Lloyd. Lloyd allowed it. He supposed walking side by side was the way he first got to know his father, and perhaps doing the same thing again would help him rebuild the tenuous bond they shared before. He would've rather traveled with his mother, but she seemed to be off on her own somewhere.

"Mithos is really from Heimdall?"

"They don't allow half-elves here anymore, because of him." Kratos' eyes narrowed. "Because of what he did."

"Then how are we going to get through?" Lloyd asked.

"I suspect Forcystus will force his way through."

Lloyd swallowed. "That's not…"

"Or—" Kratos lay a hand on his shoulder. "You and I, as humans, can use our passage to get a head-start on the rest of them. We can go release the seal together."

"That's not my idea of quality father-son time," Lloyd said. He wondered what Kratos would think of Lloyd's definition of quality father-son time—buried halfway in a desert ruin, robbing tombs. He imagined Kratos would probably be good at it, and he certainly wouldn't have ethical qualms with stealing from the dead. "Besides, we need the others here to make sure you live through the process. You have to stick around, remember? We're going to Meltokio to find _el__á_ a doctor after this. But we don't know how to get there, so you're going to lead us."

Kratos smiled. "Of course. I will lead you to wherever you need to go."

"Good. Because I have a whole list of physicians and experts that Raine gave me. She says one of them might be able to help us."

"Well, it's a start."

"I just hope she's not too…" Lloyd trailed off, shaking his head. He didn't want to think about it.

When their unit arrived at the gate to the small town, Kratos stopped. Lloyd slowed, turning his attention to the blockage at the front of the unit. "We… um, we should probably see what's going on up ahead."

He spun away from his father, rushing along the boardwalk, to the forefront of the action. He found Forcystus at the head of his unit, staring at what seemed to be the entrance to Heimdall. Two elven guards, spears at the ready, stood in his way. They barked at him in Elvish, prodding the air with the tips of their weapons.

Forcystus smiled at them, narrowing his eyes. He replied to their words calmly, in a language Lloyd could not understand. He leaned toward his father.

"What are they saying?"

"They're saying we can't pass. They're saying that they aren't allowed to let half-elves in."

Before his father had time to finish, Forcystus nodded his head to one of the men at his side. He shouted a command and his small detachment opened fire on the two guards. With no means of deflecting bullets apart from spears and a few hastily-cast spells, they fell easily. One of them rolled into the water, staining its glassy surface with a rapidly expanding bloom of red.

Lloyd stepped forward, mouth open, but his father grabbed his arm before he could do anything stupid. He looked up to Kratos, who shook his head.

"I can't just let him—" Lloyd started, well aware that he was talking about his superior officer, the man who decided whether he lived or died.

"A world is at stake. Two of them, in fact. The ignorance and bigotry of elves cannot stand in our way." Kratos squeezed his shoulder before stepping past him, down the boardwalk, toward the elven village. Lloyd followed, glancing at the bodies of the slain guards.

The village was quiet, shaded by the canopy of the Ymir forest. It wasn't until they had already marched halfway through the town that they met any resistance. A few villagers emerged from their houses to watch, to yell in Elvish, or to occasionally throw something at them.

"Do not engage," Forcystus told his force. "Vile as they are, we need no more bloodshed than necessary."

Lloyd couldn't help but turn to watch the terrified or enraged faces of the elven children as they walked by. Kratos pulled him a little closer toward the inside of the contingent. He looked around, at the postures and expressions of the Desians. Most were stoic, some were visibly hurt, even behind their helmets.

Yuan seemed unimpressed with the whole affair. He strode alongside Forcystus, perhaps used to the treatment. Anna, who had appeared from nowhere to take Kratos' other arm, was equally curious, surveying the faces of her companions and the villagers.

Raine slowed to stare at one child in particular, a blue-haired boy with his fists clenched at his sides. She didn't stop for long, her glance was furtive and transient, but it was enough for Lloyd to notice. He stepped by her side, reaching for her hand. She didn't pull away when his fingers touched hers. Whether or not this was a good sign or a bad one Lloyd had yet to decide.

He leaned in, whispering, "You know that kid?" He had meant it as a joke, so when she nodded, he drew in a quick breath, mentally punishing himself for mentioning it.

"I was born here," Raine said quietly, as they passed silent villagers. "That boy used to torment me when I was young. For being half human."

Lloyd couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, back at the youth, wondering exactly how old that kid was. He buried the thought, since Raine did not seem too keen to relive her past, and merely followed the group to the edge of the village. Beyond a small gate, moss-eaten and worn with age, stood the dark forest that housed Origin's shrine.

An old man, hunched and decrepit but with bright, clear eyes, stood in their path. Four elven guards flanked him, weapons at the ready. The elder's eyes wandered across the company, taking in the ranks and races of each member.

"I see you have humans among you," he said.

Forcystus smiled. "A testament to our honesty," he said. "We want to facilitate peace between the races. Here we are. Doing just that."

"Yet you have the gall to disturb my village, disrespect our customs, and kill my guards?" the elder shot back, voice ragged with effort. "I will not stand for it."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to," Forcystus replied. "This isn't just about you and your small-minded traditions. This is about the fate of an entire race. A tiny village's bone to pick with Mithos is insignificant."

The guards behind the elder twitched forward, ready for a fight, but the elder held up his hand. "We will not spill blood on our soil if we do not have to."

"You will not if you let us pass," Forcystus said. "We need passage if we're ever going to right the wrongs Mithos did to the world."

The elder's eyes settled on Yuan, then Kratos. "And yet you bring with you the men that helped him commit those wrongs. Your companions are the villains responsible for putting the world in its reprehensible state in the first place."

"Let's just say they're contrite," Forcystus said.

Lloyd looked up at his father, at his eyes staring expressionlessly into the trees behind the elder's crippled form. He seemed to have lost attention at this point. Perhaps he was thinking of making a run for it and releasing the seal without them. Lloyd grabbed his elbow, just to remind him that he was being watched. Kratos looked down at him, eyes snapping back to the present, and he smiled weakly.

Reluctantly, and with much negotiation both in Elvish and a host of other languages, some recognizable to Lloyd and others not, the elder granted them passage into the forest.

Relieved that they had managed to avoid further slaughter, Lloyd felt his muscles relax as they slowly made their way into the shadowy woods. The sounds of the town faded into the green haze behind them. The mutterings of the villagers and the slow creak of the windmill made way for a thick silence, interrupted only by the susurrations of the small river slithering along the trail.

The company walked without speaking for hours, perhaps subdued under the pressure of that sylvan quietness. It was only when they made camp, under the yellow moon, that anyone mustered the courage to speak. Lloyd could've guessed it would've been Anna.

"It's like a labyrinth in here," she said. "I'm surprised the birds can find their own nests."

"It's not so confusing if you're used to it," Kratos replied. He sat cross-legged by their small fire, cleaning his sword. "Birds and other animals use mana flow to find their way. They can recognize areas of this forest less by memorizing their location, and more by following the scent of a familiar strain of mana. After long enough, you might be able to do it too."

"Don't put that nonsense in her head," Yuan said, staring into the fire. "It takes thousands of years. By that time, you probably already have the place memorized."

Lloyd had to strain his eyes to see, but he managed to glimpse Kratos smile, only faintly. "Indeed. Many people, elves or human, do not have that kind of sensitivity. Those of Heimdall who are born with it are appointed guardians of the forest, and even those individuals are few and far between."

"Maybe we'll run into one on the way," Anna said. Before Kratos could answer her with what Lloyd could guess was going to be a negative, she reached over to Raine and touched her elbow. "You got anything left in your flask?"

Raine smiled. "A little. You can have it. You look like you need it."

"I do."

Lloyd saw Raine's eyes wander to Anna's exsphere. A pained expression crossed her face, and she reached for her flask. Anna downed a few of her pills with its contents, and her eyes slowly began to dull. Lloyd could see the reflection of the fire in her pupils, flickering like a dying candle. He got up and stoked the fire, throwing enough logs to keep it burning for a little while longer. His overeagerness to keep the flame alive did not go unnoticed.

"If we wish to keep up the fire overnight, we need more wood," Kratos said.

"Do we want to let it burn for that long?" Raine asked.

"There are plenty of creatures out here, some who may see us as an easy meal. I think it's a good idea to have someone take watch and keep a fire going," he said. He slowly stood, casting his tall shadow on the trees behind him.

Lloyd certainly was not eager to let the fire die. He wondered if he should help his father gather wood, but decided that he would rather stay by his mother's side. She, uncannily perceptive of the inner-workings of his mind as ever, prodded him.

"I hate to say it, Lloyd," she whispered. "But this might be the last night you have with him." Lloyd glanced at her, wishing to disbelieve, but he had to concede her point. None of them really knew if Kratos would survive the release of the seal. His mother leaned in, nuzzling his shoulder quickly before nudging him toward the arc of shadow where Kratos had disappeared. "You said so yourself, I'm going to live a while longer. I'll be here for some time yet, Lloyd. He might not. Go."

Lloyd could not disobey his mother when she gave him that stern look, so he stood, stretching quickly before trudging off after Kratos. With each step away from camp, the forest grew darker, more eerily silent. The crackling of the fire faded behind him, and he had to progress cautiously, ducking under low-hanging branches and catching himself before a stray root could trip him. The darkness seemed to swallow any lingering rays of firelight, and he found himself utterly blind before he could spot any sign of his father.

"Kratos?" he called out to the shadows. "Are you there?"

He heard a snap of a branch behind him, and he whipped around, hands brushing his knife hilts. His father's voice relaxed his muscles and he let his hands fall to his sides again.

"What are you doing out here?" Kratos asked.

"I'm helping you find firewood."

Lloyd couldn't see his father, but he could still sense that familiar frown. "It's safer in camp."

"I know. But it won't be as safe if the fire goes out."

Lloyd heard him release a soft breath—it may have been some sort of half-laugh. "Very well. But it's quite dark here. Follow me; there is a clearing close by. The trees are thin, so you may be able to see."

Lloyd tried his best to follow his father's trail, tripping over rocks and ferns and groping his way between trunks like a blind man. "Hey, slow down," he said. "I don't have angel sight like you do."

"Of course. Sometimes I forget." Strong fingers wrapped around Lloyd's hand. It would never cease to surprise him how cold his father's skin felt. Soft tugs encouraged him forward, and he stumbled after his father, guided in his wake.

For a fraction of a second, time split, and suddenly his hand was small, white and soft—devoid of scars from the ranch, scrapes from his desert adventures, free from any violence. Lloyd's tiny hand, engulfed completely by his father's, covering the tips of his fingers all the way to his wrist. His father had spoken then, in comforting, soft tones, but his grip said the words more clearly than his voice could: _don__'__t worry, I won__'__t let go_.

Lloyd stopped, retracting his arm. "What's wrong?" Kratos asked.

"Nothing," Lloyd answered. He opened his hand again, letting his father take it. "I just thought I heard something."

"Just an owl. There's a black-beaked wood owl shuffling in the trees a few dozen feet away."

"I don't hear any hooting."

"That's because this species is silent from birth. Even the fledglings don't chirp."

"Then how can you hear it?" Lloyd asked.

"They walk a certain way along branches."

"You can tell what species it is by the sounds its feet make?"

"And its breathing."

Lloyd smiled in the dark. His father could teach a thing or two to the man who wrote _A Birdwatcher__'__s Guide to the Palmacosta Region. _Lloyd didn't know how long he'd have left with his father, but as soon as they sorted out Anna's exsphere business, he would make Kratos teach him all the birds of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. Lloyd would learn to identify them by their breathing, the clicks of their talons, the snaps of their preening beaks and the ruffling of their feathers.

Raine would be proud of him if he became a leading authority on some species or another. She always said that studying animals was her second choice of science, behind archaeology. Her father had been a biologist, she said. He had studied the ecology of the tide pools of the southern Sybak region for the University, before they had him fired for marrying an elf. Raine had once told him she suspected they had killed him as well, but she hadn't been there for that part. She had only the ramblings of her insane mother to go on.

Lloyd wondered if Raine would take her mother back home with her to Derris-Kharlan. Perhaps she would be too much of a burden. Perhaps she would be happier in her home world. Perhaps it would only hurt Raine to have that reminder of her past hanging around, haunting her.

Lloyd hated to think about Raine leaving him for the other world, but he understood why she thought she had to. He reluctantly told himself that if she would be happier among her own kind, he would let her go. He did not have the right to police her decisions, the same way that Desians had no right to police the actions of humans.

Maybe, just maybe, if Derris-Kharlan stuck around, he might be able to visit her. It had to be out there, somewhere far among the stars, but if there was still access to its surface from the Tower of Salvation, maybe they didn't have to be so far apart after all.

As the canopy thinned, Lloyd made out the bright specks of a few distant stars. His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark, and the dim light that crawled past the branches was sufficient for him to find his way. Still, he held his father's hand, tightly, as if he might run off without him. "Hey, Kratos," he started. "How far away is Derris-Kharlan?"

"Closer than you might think."

"How close?"

"Very."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. He could now make out his father's form, shoulders lit slightly by the distant stars. "That doesn't mean anything. Raine says its best to answer questions like that with defined units." He shrugged. "Although, she says that units change from place to place. Tethe'alla sometimes doesn't use the same ones as Sylvarant."

"To be honest, Lloyd, I don't know how far away it is. The only reason it's in a stable orbit is because of a gravitational anomaly created in the dimensional schism. It's… sitting in the dent in space-time between the two worlds, if that makes any sense."

"Eh, maybe a little. I'll ask Raine about it later, I guess."

As the canopy thinned and the vast sky appeared clear and bright, Lloyd stopped to look at it. Kratos stopped with him, perhaps unwilling to let go of his hand. "Are you sure you want to do this, Lloyd?"

"Do what?"

"Help Forcystus. If he closes off the passage to Derris-Kharlan, you might not see your friend again."

Lloyd sighed, heart sinking. "Well, if she's going to be close, like you say, it's okay. Maybe it's better if there's no human interaction with half-elves for a little while."

"Racial isolation will not solve this problem," Kratos said. "It never has."

"And you think Mithos' idea of lifeless beings is any better?"

"No. In fact, it's far worse."

"There might not be a solution," Lloyd ventured. "But we always have to do what we can to stop suffering, even if it is just a little. Or… even when it doesn't work perfectly."

Kratos let go of Lloyd's hand, bending to pick up a splintered stick at his feet. "Perhaps. But you must keep in mind, your efforts may have more of a negative impact than a positive one."

Lloyd thought for a moment, picking up his own chunk of wood. "You mean, like when you split the world?"

"I thought it was the right thing to do, but it came with myriad consequences none of us had ever considered."

"Well… we can't know the future, can we?" Lloyd said. "We just have to do what we can now." He bent to pick up another stick, and when he righted himself, his father stood before him, face contorted. "What?"

"Lloyd, don't make any big mistakes. You'll end up regretting them for the rest of your life."

"No." Lloyd stiffened, gripping his bundle of firewood tightly to him. "I won't. If I make mistakes, I'll fix them. I won't spend my life running from them."

Lloyd could see his words puncture Kratos' stoic composition. The hurt lasted only a fraction of a second, and his father broke into a smile. It was a tortured, half-hearted smile, but Lloyd decided to take his father's approval where he could get it. "You're right, Lloyd. I'm sure you won't. I could stand to be a bit more like you."

Blood rushed to his face, and he swallowed. He pivoted on his heels and started off toward where he thought camp might be. He had only made a few steps before Kratos stopped him.

"You're going the wrong way, Lloyd."

He sighed. "Well… I'll follow you then."

They made their way back to camp slowly, blindly. Both of them were occupied holding firewood, so there was no opportunity for Kratos to lead him as before. The best he could do was point out obstacles for Lloyd to avoid.

"There's a rock just in front of you. Take a long step around it."

Lloyd did, struggling to keep his firewood in hand. They had been walking for what seemed like an eternity when Kratos suddenly stopped. Lloyd bumped into him, nearly dropping his burden, but managed to regain his hold on the sticks. "What is it?"

"Lloyd, if I die—"

Lloyd grunted. "Don't."

"Don't?"

"Yeah, just don't. You're going to say, 'Lloyd, if I die, take care of your mother,' or something like that. I'm telling you not to." Kratos' silence forced him to continue. "First of all, _el__á_ is pretty good at taking care of herself. Hell, she's pretty good at taking care of _me,_ and that's saying something. Secondly, it's insulting that you think I have to be reminded to protect my own mother. Thirdly, you're not going to die. Yuan's not going to let you."

An awkward silence filled the air between them for a few moments. "You don't know that. But that you want me to live is confusing in itself. I would've thought you'd want me dead, after all that I did."

"I've thought about killing you plenty. Even before I met you, I used to imagine that I'd kill you. I thought if you were dead, _el__á_ would stop talking about you. Stop thinking about you."

"It seems even from afar I managed to hurt both of you."

Lloyd did not contest the veracity of that statement. "But now, I don't feel like letting you take the easy way out."

"I understand."

"I don't think Yuan will, either. Two against one: you live."

"I'm not sure I understand the logic, but very well. I will try to survive if you wish it." Kratos started again toward camp.

Lloyd followed, clutching his bundle of sticks to his chest. Far behind him, he heard a faint rustling, and tilted his head, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. Nothing emerged. Perhaps it had merely been that wood owl, condemned from birth to a life of silence. He ignored the sounds and continued onward, closely following his father.


	57. Indignation

Origin's shrine was markedly less magnificent than Lloyd imagined. A monument, moss-covered and cracking, stood squatly in a sunlit clearing. It had none of the pomp and ornateness Lloyd might've expected from the King of Spirits. Maybe the spirits had no time for human vanity like palaces or fountains or statues. He figured they probably had better, more important things to do, like govern the natural laws of the world.

When Kratos stepped up to the shrine, Lloyd noticed he had to wrestle his hand from Anna's. When she eased forward, just a little, empty hand clutched at her side, Lloyd reached over to her. She looked at him, eyes soft and red, and he wondered if she had been crying. Gently, he replaced his father's hand with his own, and she squeezed his fingers.

Yuan stood beside Kratos, hands at the ready. "Let me know when," he said, quietly.

"You'll know," Kratos answered. He faced the monument, lifting his head to the sky. The air around him lightened, and a pair of blue wings emerged from the ether. They seemed to rip the air around them, frighteningly unnatural, violently bright. A yellow glow emanated from Kratos' tall form, drifting into the air like so much luminescent pollen. Kratos' wings dimmed, his arms fell to his sides, weakened, and he let out a hiss of what Lloyd assumed must've been pain.

His fingers tightened around his mother's hand. _Do it, Yuan_, he screamed inwardly. But Kratos' companion merely stood by, arms raised, as he weakened, mana dissipating into the air. Kratos seemed to deflate with each passing second—he started to waver, head dropping to his chest, posture faltering. Light crept from the cracks in the monument, joining with Kratos' ambient mana, sucking the life from him.

Lloyd took a step forward, dropping his mother's hand. He tightened his fists, unsure of how to help—but he was sure he could do a better job than Yuan. The man just stood there, arms outstretched, slowly watching Kratos die. Lloyd clenched his jaw, and took another step forward just as his father collapsed.

Before Lloyd could get to him, Yuan was there, cradling him. A bluish light seeped from under Kratos' back, where Yuan's hands lay. Lloyd stumbled to his father's side, kneeling in the dirt.

"What are you doing? Why isn't he waking up?" he demanded.

"Just give me some time," Yuan answered. His face contorted with effort, beaded with sweat.

"Wake up, Kratos," Lloyd said, bending down over his father. He rested his head against the man's chest, waiting for any sign of life.

"This would be much easier if you would back off," Yuan told him. His grimace had no room for sympathy.

Lloyd stayed where he was, seeking a heartbeat, a breath, anything. When a hand wrapped around his shoulder and tugged at him, he only clenched his father's arm and resisted.

"Lloyd, get up. You're only interfering." Lloyd glanced up at Raine, at her cold eyes, and wondered why she needed to betray him like this. Forcystus appeared behind her to help her pry Lloyd off Kratos.

When both their arms locked around his, his father opened his eyes. It was only by a tiny margin, a narrow slit of iris glazed with pain. Then they closed again, and Kratos started to mumble.

"Anna…" His breath was raspy, barely present. "Lloyd's… crying."

"I'm not," Lloyd insisted.

"Come tuck him…"

His father slipped back into unconsciousness. Anna knelt at his side, looking him over before glancing up to Lloyd. He didn't have time to parse through the complexities of her expression, since everyone seemed to be pushing to get a good look at the man. Lloyd's face was bumped several times by what he was fairly sure was Forcystus' elbow, but he didn't stop to check. He just kept his eyes locked on his father's face, waiting for any signs of sentience.

"You all are not making this easy," Yuan complained breathlessly.

Kratos twitched a few times in his semiconscious haze before opening his eyes fully. He looked at them, one by one, blinking as if trying to remember where he was.

"Did… it work?" Kratos asked.

"Yes. You'll be fine. Now, if everyone could kindly give us some room, I can help him to his feet."

Reluctantly, they dispersed, allowing Yuan to haul Kratos back upright. His head drooped, his arms dangled limply at his sides, and it took him a few seconds to get the feel of his own feet again.

"Can you stand on your own?" Yuan asked.

"Yes." Still wavering a little, Kratos stumbled back, steadying himself.

"Good, because I have another problem to deal with." Yuan redirected his attention to the shrine, still glowing with mana. Above it hovered a spirit, engulfed in light, four-armed and flanked in strange ribbons of energy. His humanoid eyes narrowed, and he crossed two of his arms, frowning.

"For what reason have you awoken me?" He took a moment to look them all over, eyes settling on Kratos, then on Yuan. "There is no reason for me to associate with the likes of you."

"Origin," Yuan started. "Please, hear us out. We need your help to guide the world back to peace."

"The last time you said that, you betrayed me. The answer is no. Besides, I cannot help you if you have no summoner present."

"Our summoner is elsewhere at the moment," Yuan answered. "We ask that you consult with the other spirits, who have all joined her, and see that we are sincere. We do not want to command you, we just want your help. All we ask is that you annul your pact with Mithos, and give us access to the Eternal Sword."

Origin seemed to mull over the idea for a moment. "You are not worthy of my assistance."

"Please!" Lloyd yelled, stepping away from his father and confronting the spirit. "We know we've all made a lot of mistakes, but at least we're trying to fix them."

Origin looked him over intensely. Lloyd felt that gaze pierce his skin, his muscle, and burrow into his very core. He gulped. Origin's eyes darted from Lloyd, to Kratos, then back to Lloyd. "I will unbind myself from Mithos. But I will not blindly bind to you instead. I am not a fool. I deny you the right to the Sword." He started to fade back into the light.

"Wait," Lloyd called, reaching out for the spirit. "Help us!"

"No."

The answer was final, resounding, and Origin disappeared in a spark of mana. Lloyd fell to his knees. He sighed, clutching the dirt. His father limped beside him and bent, laying a hand on his back. "What… what happens now?" he asked Kratos.

Yuan answered. "Without Origin, we will not be able to wield the Eternal Sword." Yuan crossed his arms. "Any possibility of reuniting the worlds is now lost."

"But ultimately that doesn't matter one whit," Forcystus said. "Our goal is to retake Derris-Kharlan, if you remember. Mithos is vulnerable. We can still ascend the Tower, dispel the barrier, use the mana cannon to blow Welgaia from the face of the planet and take what's left."

Yuan gave him an odious glare. "Perhaps you should consider the possibility that the fate of Derris-Kharlan is tied to the fate of the other two worlds."

Kratos stood, slowly, helping Lloyd off the ground. "If Mithos has the Eternal Sword in his possession, that will pose a problem in either case. Even if Origin is no longer bound to him."

"I don't get it," Lloyd muttered. "Origin is a part of this world… why would he not want to help it?"

"He's seen the mistakes we've made in the past," Kratos answered. "He does not wish to run the risk of having us repeat them. It was his power that made it possible to split the world in the first place."

"Then he can put it back together. If he has that kind of power, what's he thinking not using it to help people?"

"Lloyd…" Kratos lay a hand on his shoulder. "It's not exactly our place to judge the morals of spirits thousands of years older than we are."

"I don't see why not!" Lloyd nearly yelled. "This whole world is his mess, too!" He shoved his father's hand from him and walked toward the edge of the clearing. He clenched his fists, wishing the spirit would return, just to hear him out. He was sure Origin would listen, if only Lloyd could explain himself well enough.

He cursed himself for not being able to convince the spirit to stay around. He cursed Sheena's injuries. If she were here, Origin would've stayed to at least listen to their requests. And if she hadn't been hurt so badly, she wouldn't have had to stay behind at the base. And if Raine had only tried to heal her… gods, if he hadn't trusted Zelos—if only he'd managed to piece everything together at the base, then—

About half a mile from the clearing, he realized he was alone. He must've stormed off, and nobody thought it was a good idea to follow him. Suddenly embarrassed, he leaned on a tree and sighed. Wandering aimlessly and cursing everything around him wasn't going to help the situation. The best it could do was just get himself lost in this labyrinthine forest. Lloyd took a few deep breaths, calming himself, trying not to rip the bark off the trunk he leaned against. He knew frustration would not help… if Raine had taught him anything, it was that keeping a clear head was crucial in times like this.

She would no doubt be disappointed in him when he returned. That is, unless he somehow thought of a solution to their predicament out here in the forest. Sometimes wandering alone helped him sort through his thoughts—he'd done it often back in the desert.

The Ymir forest was quite unlike the vast, empty sands of Triet, but Lloyd found the solitude somewhat familiar. He breathed in the quiet green air and thought deeply.

He could return and try to call back the spirit, beg him for forgiveness on behalf of all human and elf-kind. Maybe if he prostrated himself low enough, Origin would listen. He doubted it. Maybe they would find a way around it. Maybe they could take out Mithos, even if he had the famed sword on his side. Maybe, if they could manage that, Origin would see they were worthy of his help. He might be able to solve the mana imbalance… but that was a thought for after Mithos was gone.

Lloyd lifted his head and came to a decision. He would do whatever he could, Origin or no. He would destroy Cruxis, destroy what was left of the Desians and their ranches. He would help rebuild Palmacosta, Iselia, Mizuho. He would extend a helping hand to all the people, elf, human, or in between, whom Cruxis had harmed. He would help Forcystus get his people to Derris-Kharlan, he would lend support to those half-elves who wanted to stay on the ground below. He would help anyone who needed it. If it took him decades, he would prove to Origin that he, and his entire species, deserved to be spared the pain of a split mana system.

Lloyd took a deep breath, feeling a little better. He stood, stretched for a moment, and sighed. He would make his way back to the clearing, before they started to worry and sent someone out after him. He would apologize for his outburst. Then he would defeat his oppressors and save the world. Simple.

He turned toward the narrow corridor of trees from which he'd come, and took a step forward. Before he could lift his foot and take another, the foliage in front of him rustled slightly. Lloyd drew his knives, but when a rifle barrel emerged from the brush, he gulped and stepped back. He knew at this distance a bullet would pierce him before he could cut the gunman, so he backed up to the tree as the gun crept forward.

A too-familiar face followed the weapon out of the underbrush. Lloyd's fingers twitched, a shiver ran down his spine, and Kvar smiled. His lips were thin and grayish, and a gash in his forehead looked as if it had been clumsily stapled shut. It appeared that after the destruction of his ranch, the Cardinal had had a difficult time.

"L033, put those toys away," he growled, smirking. His black eyes shone with disturbing urgency, his mouth twitched as if he had no control over his own grin.

Lloyd didn't move.

"I said put them away!" Kvar repeated, moving his sights from Lloyd's face to his hand. "Or I'll take off your arm."

Lloyd tried to assess whether or not he would be able to cut down Kvar if he moved fast. The man did not look like his usual composed self, but then again, that might only mean he was desperate enough to do something reckless. Lloyd sheathed his knives and held his hands up.

"Good."

"Kvar, stop," Lloyd muttered, heart pumping somewhere in his throat. "There's no ranch to go back to."

"You will address me as Lord," he hissed, stepping forward once more. Again, Lloyd found himself stumbling backward, until a massive tree trunk stopped him. Kvar inched closer, rifle first. "And I'm well aware of that. We're not going back to the ranch. We're going to Yggdrasill. I was thinking of taking him your head, but he told me he wants to meet you. He's preparing for your visit."

Lloyd thought it might be a good idea to just let Kvar take him to Yggdrasill. It would spare him the trouble of having to track the bastard down himself. Maybe if Kvar took him to Welgaia, his father would follow him up there, and they could strike down Cruxis together. He figured that might be the best way it could turn out.

But Kvar did not seem to wish to leave. He stood stone-still, gun trained on Lloyd. "You're a slippery one," he said. "Just like A012."

Lloyd gulped. His fingers moved, aching for his knives. He looked for an opening, any opening, where he could draw his weapons, slip under the barrel of the gun and end Kvar.

"You've ruined my ranch," the Desian continued. "My career. My life. You and that bitch mother of yours."

Lloyd did not have time to react. He could only register Kvar's grin, the sadistic glint in his narrowed eyes, before a gunshot rang through the forest. Lloyd collapsed against the tree, leaning on the bark, as his shoulder spat blood. Before he could examine the damage, before he could even register the pain, Kvar shot him again.

Lloyd's stomach burst with agony, and it was all he could do to keep from falling to the ground. He clutched at the rough bark of the tree behind him, resolving to die on his feet. His legs shook, and he couldn't breathe, but he managed to keep his eyes open as Kvar raised his rifle a few inches and pointed it between his eyes.

The third shot that rent the air, sending flocks of birds dashing from their nests, did not end Lloyd's life. He struggled, eyes blurring, to see where it had come from. Kvar jumped back, looking to his right, raising his rifle to his new attacker. He did so slowly, sluggishly, in a blur, and Lloyd could barely squint hard enough to see his mother, handgun raised, emerging from the shady trees.

He didn't have the breath to call out to her to run, to get the others, to save herself. He could only shake, leaning against the tree, trying to keep his sight from leaving him. Something wet ran down his chest, pooling at his belt, but he did not lower his eyes to check.

Kvar let out a laugh as Anna fired a few clumsy shots, unused to the recoil. She had no second hand to steady herself, no experience with a firearm, but she emptied her magazine anyway, clipping Kvar in the hip. He stumbled, kneeling, and she stepped forward, closer to the Cardinal. She kept pulling the trigger, even when all she got was an empty click.

Kvar struggled to raise his own rifle, still loaded, when he saw her ammunition had run out. Lloyd tried his best to stumble to her, still holding the tree for support, reaching out to her. Kvar's eyes shifted from Anna to him, and with them, the sights of his rifle. Lloyd was again staring down the barrel, sight tunneling, as Anna stumbled toward him.

The shot meant to finish Lloyd off thumped into a different obstacle. In a twirl of dark hair, of pale limbs, Anna twisted herself in front of him. A stream of red burst from the back of her neck, and she fell forward, limp. Lloyd did not have the strength to take a step and catch her—he couldn't even cry out. He just slid down the tree trunk and collapsed at its base. He tried to turn his head to look at her, but his vision was fading rapidly.

He could only make out the crumpled form of his mother, hair splayed, and Kvar, slowly struggling back to his feet. He tried to scream, to get off the ground and kill Kvar before he could escape, but he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He just lay there, twitching slightly but bleeding profusely.

Kvar turned his head, clutching his wound. When he saw that Lloyd was not quite dead yet—at least not dead enough for his satisfaction, he grinned widely and raised the rifle once more. He shook with effort, and couldn't get a steady shot before a blur of dark cloth whirled before him. Lloyd saw a glint of silver, a spray of red. A sword cut through the darkness, a pair of cerulean wings kept it at bay.

He heard his father's scream as if from the end of a long tunnel. It echoed past his ears the way Ezra's yells used to, when they were boys, and talked to one another from distant ends of a resonant limestone cavern. He felt like he was falling into one of those caves, but there was no bright desert light to guide him, only a sharp pain in his torso.

He forgot where he was, for a moment. His mind was filled with caves, caverns, gaping holes, passages through which he knew he must walk. Perhaps if he hurried, he would get back to Triet before his mother did, and he would surprise her by the oasis.

Some people said that only the sinful went to the fiery desert when they died, but Lloyd did not mind being counted among them.

"Lloyd, hold on. For all the gods' sake, hold on…"

He opened his eyes, slightly, and saw Raine's glowing face. Fractions of himself returned, and he tried to push out a breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could not muster enough air to make a sound. Instead, he hoped she would read his quivering lips.

_Save her._

_Help her._

_Save__…_


	58. Tracing an Ancient Path

Lloyd clung to the rocks, desert heat pounding his back, staring down the mouth of the small hole. He called into it, and when no reply came, he slid down the crest of the limestone, landing in the soft sand. He rubbed his eyes and tripped down the dune, to where Barra and his mother waited.

"I can't find Ezra," he told them. Looking up at them, he hadn't realized how tall they were. Or how short he was. But... yes, that was it, he was still a child. He had just turned eleven, because now he had another few months to look forward to the annual festival. He tugged at his mother's robe. "I can't find Ezra," he said again.

"Ah, gods damn," Barra muttered. He strode up the side of the dune, engulfed in light, and made his way to the caves. Lloyd took his mother's hand and led her up after him. They stopped at the mouth of the small cave. Barra knelt and shouted into it, and got no reply.

"You go in, Lloyd," Barra said. "See if you can bring him back."

Lloyd gripped his mother's hand tighter. He did not want to crawl down there—it reminded him too much of the small spaces he'd had to navigate in the human ranch. But Ezra did not answer their calls, and neither Barra nor Anna could fit down into those tiny caves.

"It'll be all right, Lloyd," his mother said, squeezing his hand. "We'll be right here, waiting for you. When you get scared, just call up to us and we'll shout back."

Lloyd nodded. He mustered his courage and let go of his mother's hand. He crawled into the little crevice, squinting to see beyond where the orange light could reach.

"It looks like it opens up," Lloyd said. He looked behind him and saw two shadows lean over the distant entrance. He had not remembered crawling that far.

"Good, keep going!" Barra shouted.

Lloyd turned back to the darkness, and pushed onward. He scraped his knees along the bottom of the cavern, deafened by his own breath. When the light disappeared, he groped blindly forward. When he got scared he called back to his mother.

"_El__á_!" he yelled. When there was no reply, he tried to turn his body around. The cavern was just big enough that he could barely turn himself sideways if he really squeezed. For a moment, he mistook the cave for an air vent, and he thought he could smell the acrid scent of bleach and blood. He had to clutch at the limestone to remind himself he was not in the basement of the Iselian ranch, but he gripped too hard.

In his panic, he accidentally pulled a stone from the side of the cave. The rest came tumbling down after it. Lloyd screamed, throwing up his hands, unprepared for his early burial. But the force of the landslide pushed the bottom of the cavern out from under him, and he was tumbling down, rolling wildly, smacking limbs on rocks, trying to keep his face from scraping against the cavern walls and the onslaught of falling stones. When the small avalanche came to a pebbly standstill, Lloyd opened his eyes. He saw a tiny light, shining brilliantly, in the distance.

So he crawled toward it. He tried to steady his breathing, and clambered to the light, leaving behind the collapsed cavern, leaving behind the abhorrent smell of the laundry facility, leaving behind Barra and his mother. He stumbled through the opening, bright sunlight swallowing his vision. He squinted at the sky, white-blue as it should be, and took one step too far.

He tumbled out of the cave and down a crest of sand, rolling to a halt at the base. He coughed, spitting, and sat up. He stumbled to his feet, and started walking up the opposite dune. "Ezra?" he called. No answer.

He came to a halt at the dune's tip. Beyond the next few rolls of sand, he spied a grassy knoll. Beyond that, forest. Tall, green trees arched above the white sand, vegetation stretching far into the distance. He'd never been here before. He looked to the sky, to search for a beacon that might show him which direction he faced. If he could find his way back to Barra and his mother, he would be able to tell them about this strange place. He squinted, wondering if Ezra had made his way into that forest. It was worth a try, just to look. Besides, he was curious.

An unfamiliar voice stopped him in his tracks halfway down the dune. He whipped around to spy a boy a few years older than him, dancing down the sand. "Hey!" the boy called again. Three more figures appeared on the crest behind him, and followed him down to Lloyd. When the boy reached him, he bent down and lay his hands on his knees, panting. "Hey… what are you doing out here alone?"

"I live here," Lloyd answered.

The boy lifted his head, wiping sweat from beneath his blond hair. He smiled. "Really? Then maybe you can tell us where to go."

Lloyd shrugged. "Maybe. Where are you going?"

The three others caught up, sliding to a halt in the sand. Lloyd squinted at them, trying to make out their somewhat familiar faces. He found himself just on the brink of recognizing them when the blond boy interrupted him. "We're looking for Origin."

A shock ripped through Lloyd's brain. He blinked at the familiarity of the name, and held his head. "Yeah…" he muttered. "Origin. I'm looking for him, too." He stared at his feet, trying to remember why. Gods, his feet were so small. When did he get so small? He suddenly remembered Ezra. "Yeah, I'm looking for my friend. Maybe Origin knows where he went."

"Well, we can look together, then." The boy took his arm and led him across the sand, toward the distant forest. Lloyd, a little surprised by the eagerness with which this kid accepted him, glanced behind them at his trailing companions.

A woman followed closely, long green hair blowing elegantly in the wind. Behind her, two men, who seemed strangely familiar. Lloyd did not have time to examine them in their entirety because the boy was dragging him onward, toward the distant trees.

"What's your name?" the boy asked.

"Lloyd."

"Lloyd, huh? That's a weird name."

"_Mithos_."

The boy glanced back to the woman behind him and smiled guiltily. "Just kidding, sis."

She shook her head, frowning.

Mithos turned back to Lloyd. "Sorry. Is it a desert name or something?"

"I don't know," Lloyd answered, truthfully. He'd never known why he had that name or where it was from. He had only been glad it was no longer a number.

Mithos chattered on, asking him what he liked, what he disliked, where his parents were from, how old were they, how old was he, did he know how to read, did he know how to fight, how to play an instrument, how to swim, cook, sing, dance, play cards…

Lloyd, inundated with these questions, did not know exactly how to answer them. He was only eleven. He was pretty sure he could swim. He couldn't fight yet. He didn't know how to read yet. He couldn't cook, or play cards worth a damn. He certainly would never be able to dance, and it wasn't until next year that his mother would buy him an oud.

When they stopped for the night, they settled at the edge of the forest, and one of Mithos' companions left to bring firewood. The other one stayed behind, cleaning his sword in the fading light. Lloyd tried to get a good look at him, squinting through the twilit air.

He looked remarkably like his father. Yes, that was whom he resembled. But their faces were radically different, their eyes had a completely disparate look in them. His father's were old, worn, almost lifeless. This man had an energy about him that his father never would. This man didn't look like he'd even hit thirty.

He stopped cleaning his sword and glanced up at Lloyd. He said nothing, and returned his attention to his weapon.

"You want some music, Kratos?" Mithos asked.

"No," he answered.

"Too bad," the boy replied. He dug through his small pack, and pulled out a pan flute, raising it to his lips and blowing. The sound rang bright and vibrant through the air. Lloyd smiled at the melody he drew out from the small wooden tubes almost like magic.

His sister leaned back and reached into her own bag, pulling out a small stringed instrument.

"What's that?" Lloyd asked.

"It's an elven lute," she answered, plucking a few strings. She looked over at her brother and he nodded slightly, and they started to play.

The melody, the counterpoints, the ambience of their music drew Lloyd in, irrevocably. He couldn't keep his eyes from the woman's fingers, sliding along the neck of the slim instrument. The light vibrations floated through the air like so many voices, and accompanied by the ghostly wail of the pan flute, they sucked Lloyd down into an ethereal state of awe. When her singing began, he was sure that he'd slipped out of his familiar world and into an entirely new one.

She sang in a language he didn't understand, vibrato soft and light, quivering through the air. It was so unlike his mother's strong, deep voice, but the way she navigated the notes reminded him of her. Music sprang so naturally from this elvish woman Lloyd wondered if she'd been born singing, like Anna.

Even Kratos' ears perked a little at the music. His rhythmic swipes of cloth along his sword slowed in time with the beat, and Lloyd could see the very tips of his shoes twitch, as if he were trying to stop himself from tapping his foot.

When Mithos and his sister finished their song, their companion returned from the woods, firewood in hand. He bent down, clearing a hole for the fire, and Lloyd examined him. He recognized that hair, the shape of his face, but much like the man called Kratos, Lloyd was sure he hadn't met him. The same way that Kratos was not his father, this man was certainly not the Renegade leader Lloyd knew.

Yuan, his name was Yuan. Lloyd was not sure if Mithos had told him, or if he'd merely recalled the name of the man he knew who looked so much like him. But like Kratos, this man before him was barely a man—he was still within spitting distance of his teenage years, it looked like. His eyes were bright, hopeful, and his smile was wide. He did not try to hide his tapping foot when Mithos and his sister struck up another song.

Instead of relying on matches or flint like Lloyd had to, Yuan just raised his hand to the base of the logs and a spark flew from his fingertips, lighting the kindling. Lloyd tried to remember if he'd ever seen the Renegade Yuan use such magic, but he couldn't recall. Maybe he was like Raine, and decided that he'd be better off abandoning magic in favor of the technological advances of the modern world.

Lloyd realized he wasn't going to meet Raine for another seven or so years, and deflated. He wasn't sure if he could wait that long. He probably shouldn't think of her—after all, at eleven he was technically unaware of her existence. Besides, he had Mithos for company. Mithos and his sister Martel, and Yuan, and Kratos, who was not his father.

He looked at them, one by one, and tried to categorize them as he had categorized people for so long. After Martel had finished her song and turned to help Yuan with cooking, Lloyd leaned over to Mithos.

"Hey, if you were a bird, what kind of bird would you be?" he asked.

Mithos scrunched his lip to one side, thinking. "I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"I think you'd probably be a chickadee."

Mithos laughed. "Because of the flute?"

"Mostly."

"What about Martel?"

Lloyd looked her over, thinking. "Mmm, a finch. An Eastern Palmacostan Song-finch."

"Palmacostan? Where's that?"

"Oh… it's across the sea a ways."

"Never heard of it," Yuan said, eyes locked on his sweet-smelling soup. "And I've been everywhere."

Kratos glanced at Lloyd suspiciously, sheathing his sword. He lay it by his side and crossed his arms.

"Hey, do Kratos," Mithos said.

Lloyd bit his lip, thinking. "Hawk."

"Yeah, I can see that. And Yuan?"

"A burrowing owl."

"Hey." Yuan glared as he lifted his meal from the fire. He seemed disappointed that Lloyd had not chosen something a little more majestic. But Lloyd did not feel the need to be dishonest with him. It was either a burrowing owl or a vulture. Yuan would not turn into a vulture for another few thousand years, and Lloyd did not have the heart to tell him.

Kratos broke a smile at the assessment. "Seems accurate to me," he said.

After a small meal, a short bout of swordsmanship training for Mithos, and one more elven ditty from Martel, they all lay down. They didn't have enough bedrolls to accommodate Lloyd, but he didn't feel tired anyway. He told them he could keep watch, and perched himself on a stump at the edge of the forest, staring up at the stars. He was sure there was little danger to watch out for, but he couldn't decipher how he knew that. When the bright moons rose above the sand and blurred the constellations, Lloyd turned his sights to the ground. The strange double-moons illuminated the earth with more light than one could alone, and the faces of his new companions were clear and sharp in the silver night.

Mithos slept curled tightly, with his knees nearly against his chin. Every once in a while, perhaps in her sleep, perhaps not, Martel's hand would wander to him and touch his shoulder, as if probing to make sure he were still there. Martel talked in her sleep, rhythmically, in Elvish. Lloyd suspected she might be reciting poetry.

Yuan slept fitfully, turning over every few minutes, sweat shining in the moonlight. Sometimes he would groan, sometimes he bolted awake. When he sat up and looked over at Lloyd, he would turn a little red before lying back down and bunching his blanket around his shoulders. His thin legs stuck out from the bottom of the blanket, feet twitching.

Kratos slept silently, one hand on his sword hilt. Lloyd could see his eyelids move, and wondered what he could possibly be dreaming about. He had never seen his own father dream, and it was strange to see this man, who looked so much like him, shiver slightly in his sleep. Sometimes his mouth curled into a snarl, sometimes into a smile. His hand never left the hilt of his sword, fingers brushing against the strange stone on the pommel.

Lloyd was quite sure Kratos' hand did not leave it even after he woke. He kept his palm on his sword, miraculously, while they packed, ate, and set off into the forest. Lloyd wondered if there would ever be a moment he would spend without it. He wondered if somewhere in the thousands of years between now and the time this mysterious man would turn into his father, if he'd ever let go.

As they walked, Martel struck up a song, her feet lifting from the dry dirt as she danced along. This one she sang in a tongue Lloyd could understand.

"Hey boy, by the window there, button your coat, shake out your hair,  
Come out to the orange grove, part your lips, hold me near.  
Hey young man, by the grove spring, bend your knee, try on this ring,  
Carry me through an empty doorway, to a new house, to a new beginning.

Hey young sir, with the growing whiskers, straighten your sash, give up on liquor,  
This baby won't feed itself, and ain't growing bigger, and all you grow is thicker.  
Hey mister, with the greying hair, you can't fool me, I've seen your stare,  
I weren't born yesterday, I ain't green as a pear, you've found another maiden fair.

Hey old man, alone and doddering, from me you'll get no sorta loving,  
Out in the street you go, out in the rain—shoulda thought of me when you went roving.  
Hey boy, in the flower glade, you're a fair child, a stripling lad,  
But promise me one thing, just one, boy of mine, don't turn out like your dad!"

Lloyd laughed as the song came to an abrupt and lively halt. The party, as if guided only by the music, also stopped, falling silent at the edge of a bright streak of running water. Mithos let out a cry of joy and stepped toward it, taking off his shoes hastily, urgently, as if his feet were on fire.

Lloyd stood at the edge of the water, staring into its foaming current. He could see the perfectly round pebbles at its bottom, smoothed by hundreds of years of steady flow. He reached down for one of them and pulled it out of the water. He threw it as hard as he could across the river, and it landed in the middle with a satisfying _glub_.

Mithos was already halfway in, calling back to his sister. She looked at Kratos, then Yuan, then finally at Lloyd, and shrugged.

"We don't have time for this," Kratos muttered, as Martel slipped out of her coat.

"Oh, come on. How often do you see a river clear as this?"

Kratos turned to Yuan for support but he was already shaking off his cloak. "She has a point, Kratos. Most of them are green with magitech waste."

Kratos sighed, sitting on a log, watching them. "Fine. But don't expect me to come rescue you if you drown."

Yuan laughed. "You're the one who's a terrible swimmer."

Kratos turned slightly red, but said nothing. He merely sat and stared, hand hanging from the cross guard of his sword. Mithos was already neck deep in the cool water, and Martel and Yuan steadily waded toward him, clothes discarded pell-mell on the shore.

Kratos looked over at Lloyd, standing eagerly at the edge of the water. "Aren't you going in?" he asked.

Lloyd's toes curled, and he thought of the tattoo on the bottom of his foot. "No… I don't think so."

Kratos frowned. "Well, I'm not going to force you to have fun."

Lloyd thanked him inwardly and sat down beside him on the fallen log.

"Look at them," Kratos smiled. "Splashing about like a pack of imbeciles."

Mithos had jumped on his sister and now tried to pull her under. She was too tall for him, and had Yuan on her side. Together they picked up the boy and threw him a good few feet into the air. He flailed, landing with a gasp on his back in the water.

"It's hard to believe," Lloyd said absentmindedly.

"Believe what?"

"That they're going to—" he realized what he was about to reveal and shut his mouth. He wasn't supposed to know this yet. He wasn't supposed to know anything yet.

Kratos did not probe him. He just returned his gaze to the three splashing in the water. "Let's just hope we don't find ourselves distracted for too long."

Lloyd nodded. "Hey, Kratos. Are you really a bad swimmer?" As far as Lloyd could tell, his father was strong, agile, in almost every form of movement. But perhaps four thousand years can teach a man proficiency in many things. Now, by the side of the river, Kratos was not so experienced.

"I'm decent." The way he said it confirmed Lloyd's suspicions, and he grinned widely. He reached out and held Kratos' elbow.

"Don't worry, you'll get better."

Kratos raised an eyebrow, a thin smile twitching across his lips. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. Lloyd shrugged, deciding that he'd be better off if he shut his mouth. It only seemed to interest Kratos more. "You're a cryptic boy," he continued. "What are you going to see Origin for? I know they say he's a king, but he doesn't grant peasants' requests."

"I'm looking for my friend."

"You keep saying that, but I have my doubts."

"To be honest… I do too." Lloyd let go of Kratos to twiddle his thumbs. "I keep forgetting… who I'm looking for. I think it's Origin. I think it's Ezra. I think it's my mother."

"Looks like you have quite a few people on your list." Kratos lay a hand on Lloyd's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Lloyd noticed it was the same hand that usually stayed in constant contact with his sword hilt. "You'll find them."

Lloyd looked up at Kratos, blinking. He looked so incredibly young, so strangely far away, so unlike the man he would become. "Thanks, Kratos." _What about you, though? Will I find you? Will I be able to find you somewhere deep down inside my father? Are you still alive? Am I?_

Mithos interrupted him on the brink of his realization. He tore himself away from the water, blond hair plastered against his forehead, laughing. He pulled back on his clothes and led the way down the riverbank, deeper into the forest.

Lloyd followed loyally, quietly. He put his hands in his pockets and watched the sway of Kratos' thin coattails before him, losing himself. He tried to remember why he was here, why there were two moons, a forest adjacent to the Triet desert, where his mother and Barra had gone… It was a little too confusing for him, so he just focused on Kratos, on his boots and his swinging hand, on the back-and-forth motion of the end of his scabbard as he walked.

The next time Lloyd tore himself away from Kratos, he recognized where he was. "Hey, you guys," he said. They all stopped and turned to him. "I think I know where Origin is."

Mithos broke out in a wide grin. "Really? Take us there!"

Lloyd nodded, stepping past Kratos and through the clearing. He wound his way around a thick tree stained with a splatter of something dark red. He ran his hand along the rough bark as he passed the trunk, retreating into the foliage beyond. "Follow me," he said. With each step he treated into more familiar ground. He knew that the forest should thin and Origin's shrine should come into view any moment now…

He burst from the underbrush with an eager sigh, and came to a halt in a familiar clearing. His four companions emerged behind him. Mithos glanced past Lloyd to the stone monument and gasped, Martel broke into a wide smile, and Yuan and Kratos glanced at one another.

"You found it!" Mithos laughed.

"Told you I knew where he was!" Lloyd grinned back.

Kratos stepped forward, hand returning to his sword. "I have to say, I'm surprised." Lloyd chose to take that particular comment as praise. He followed the man to the small patch of grass before the monument and stared at it. It sat quietly, still and dark, devoid of the life that had coursed through it the moment his father released the seal.

Now, Kratos seemed to shrink before the empty monument. His eyes followed the contours of the smooth stone. It was devoid of those cracks and the creeping vines it had the last time Lloyd had stood here.

"So… what happens now?" Lloyd asked.

Mithos stepped up to the monument. His sister moved a tiny bit with him, her hand rising to brush the tail of his coat. "Be careful," she said.

Mithos turned and gave her a smile before touching the smooth grey stone. White light, rife with mana, bloomed at his feet and crawled toward the sky.

Lloyd must've blinked. He shouldn't have blinked. He did not know how so much could possibly change in a fraction of a second.

The sky was dark, glowing a deep red. Above the monument, crimson-eyed and arms crossed, floated Origin. He scowled, wing-like appendages twitching angrily.

His eyes moved to Lloyd, and stayed there, hovering. Lloyd felt his skin crawl, his head burn, as Origin's gaze burrowed into him. It seemed to sear his insides, and he had to look away. It did not relieve the excruciating pressure in inside him.

Only when Origin took his gaze from Lloyd and surveyed the rest of the group did the pain leave. The condescending frown on the spirit's face stayed, however.

"There is none among you worthy to wield the Sword," he said. His voice rang across the clearing like a deep wave. Lloyd was caught it under its weight, carried away by its sheer authority. In his present state, he didn't have the courage to challenge it. Origin raised one hand, gesturing to the other end of the clearing. Or, what used to be a clearing, since Lloyd was not sure exactly where he was anymore. The darkening sky, the strange orange glow of the distant trees, and the sudden smell of smoke all blurred his senses.

Origin continued, voice obscured by the dream-like haze of thick air. "The only one who has earned the right to command my power has met her end." Lloyd followed the spirit's pointing finger and turned. The clearing widened rapidly into a seared and bloodstained grassland, saturated with smoke. In the center, face raised to the sky, knelt Mithos. His mouth was open, contorted, but no sound came from it. In his lap lay Martel, unmoving. Her head was draped over Mithos' knee, her face angled to to Lloyd. Her green eyes stared, empty, into the distance. A trickle of red dripped down her face, pooling by her brother's feet.

Lloyd sprinted toward them, reaching out his hand. Mithos did not seem to see him, so he called their names. Before he could make it to them, or even get Mithos' attention, he felt a firm hand grab his shoulder. Kratos frowned at him, holding him firmly in place.

"No," was all he said, before he squeezed.

An unnatural pain shot through Lloyd's shoulder, deep and intense. He tried to struggle from Kratos' grip, but found that the man's hand, uncannily strong and unrelenting, held him in place. No one could possibly have a grip that powerful—no one should be able to cause such pain just by clutching.

But the agony spread down Lloyd's shoulder regardless of its improbability, and settled somewhere in his lower abdomen. He cried out, begging Kratos to let him go. Even when Mithos and his sister disappeared into the smoke, he still spat pleas to be released, just to stop the pain.

Kratos' face darkened, his mouth pulled tight and silent, and merely gripped harder. The grey smoke thickened, forcing itself down into Lloyd's struggling lungs.

When Lloyd was sure his bones were about to snap, sure he was about to choke to death, so sure that Mithos and Martel were long gone, he opened his eyes.


	59. Failure

Lloyd's shoulder ached, his stomach burned. He tried to turn his head, to coax life back into his limbs, but the dull, heavy pain kept him horizontal and weak. He found he could move his eyes, move the tips of his fingers, but he couldn't for the life of him recognize where he was. He stared at the ceiling, metallic and plain, and decided he must've been in a human ranch. He started to panic, wondering if they'd caught his mother too, if he would be put back to work in the tiny crevices and passageways between the ranch walls. He was unsure if he found it difficult to breathe because of the excruciating pain in his chest or his sudden onset of panic, but after a few minutes, when his vision started to clear, his addled brain managed to remember his station.

He did not need to fear the human ranches. Forcystus had rendered them all non-operational. So… where was he, and why….

He tried to recall how he got here. He remembered, vaguely, the face of Kvar. It melted into the kinder, gentler face of another half-elf, a boy a little older than he was—no. That boy would be younger than he was, since Lloyd had grown a few years since the end of his dream and the start of his awareness. Yes… he knew things now he didn't know back then. He knew about Raine, he knew about the two worlds, he knew about his father, about Yuan…

He knew about Origin, somehow. But he couldn't recall what it was he was supposed to know in the first place. He knew there was no one worthy to wield the Eternal Sword. That was all he could be sure of. They had all failed Origin's test.

The only one who could was…

A sense of intense loneliness overtook him. He twitched, trying to sit up, but didn't have the strength. "_El__á_," he croaked. His voice was hoarse and weak, the sounds emerging slowly, heavily. Each syllable was like a solid weight he tried to push off his chest. "_El__á_!" he said again, struggling to raise his voice.

"He's awake." The voice was female, familiar, but it didn't belong to his mother. It wasn't Raine's, either. Too weak to move his head, he groaned until the voice came to him. Sheena bent beside him, turning her face to match his. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

He moaned something incomprehensible, even to him.

"You took a few good hits," Sheena continued. "But Raine was there for you."

He squinted. That's right… Raine's face had hovered over his. She'd been terrified. He wondered what she'd been so worried about. Sure, he hurt, all over, but he was still alive. He hadn't been in any real danger, not with Mithos and Martel with him. Not with Kratos at his side.

"Lloyd…" Sheena leaned in, perhaps a little too close. "I've called the others. Before they get here, I need to ask you: what did Origin say?"

Lloyd blinked. His heart started to beat frantically in his chest, sending sharp pain through him with each thump. "N… no."

"He said that?"

"He said… no."

Sheena lowered her eyes. "I see." She sighed, and he heard the swish of an automatic door opening. He tried to turn his head to see who had entered, but he could only manage a few inches. It took all his strength to even lift his eyelids enough to watch the small crowd gather above him. Raine, Forcystus and Yuan came blearily into view, bending over him.

Seeing him struggle to greet them, Sheena and Raine slowly hoisted him in a slouched sitting position. The movement was drastic enough to send chilling pangs down his front, all the way to the tips of his toes. He looked down on himself, on his clean bandages, and tried to remember how he'd managed to hurt himself so badly.

Did he fall off the mana cannon during routine maintenance? Did he find himself in an unfortunate reactor accident? Did one of the other Grand Cardinals launch an attack while they were distracted? Did they…

Lloyd grasped his forehead, overcome by the effort it took to merely think.

Raine leaned over and removed his hand, looking into his face. "Lloyd, can you speak?"

"Yeah," he said, unconvincingly, in his opinion. "Where… how…"

"You were shot. I was able to stem the bleeding until we got you some real attention, but it's going to hurt for a while." Raine lowered her gaze to his chest, and he saw a flash of regret. "There was a while when… we didn't think you'd pull through."

"How long ago was that?"

"About a week."

Lloyd never thought surprise could hurt like that. He contorted his face and hissed a little. "How long have I been… And who…"

"Kvar."

Her face was serious, flat, maybe a little too ashen. He looked into the black circles of her pupils, and saw what had happened. Against the wet, dark reflection, he saw Kvar raise a rifle, he saw a thick tree, he saw blood, he saw his mother.

"No…" he wheezed, his heart twisting. His wounds burned, his eyes blurred. His stomach tumbled over itself in agony. He thought he might throw up. "Where's _el__á_?" he asked.

"She's here… she's…"

"Take me to her."

"Lloyd, that is not a good idea." When he tried to get up, Raine gently pushed him back against the pillow.

"I don't care." He tried again, wincing at the pain. Raine held him down again.

"Lieutenant," Forcystus started. "He will learn sooner or later."

"He's not ready to get up," she answered.

"I am." Arms shaking, he drew himself up and tried to throw his legs over the side of the bed. Raine sighed, lending her arm in support. Sheena took up the other side, steadying him, and they let him stumble across the room, feet barely touching the floor.

"Don't push yourself," Raine said. He ignored her, practically dragging them to the door and forcing them to open it for him. He made them lead him across the hall to the next room. The trek was only a few feet, but the trip was agonizingly slow, incredibly awkward and unduly painful. When he got to the next room, he was breathless.

They opened the door for him and he nearly stumbled inside on his own. In the center of the room stood a small bed, flanked in glass, attached on either side to several electronic apparatuses, each beeping and clicking with its own rhythm. Over the sheets lay a familiar cascade of dark brown hair, and an unmoving, pale face.

His father hovered over the body. When Kratos heard him enter, he lifted his head. His eyes were red, ringed with fatigue, his mouth drawn tight, his brow furrowed. He did not need to open his mouth—his look told Lloyd all he needed to know.

Lloyd stumbled forward, bursting into silent tears. He dragged himself from the grip of his companions and took a step toward his mother, arms outstretched. His legs, too weak to carry him, buckled under his weight, and he fell forward. Time slowed, he could only see her face, her lifeless face, as he collapsed.

His father caught him before he hit the ground. Kratos' strong arms wrapped around him, holding him upright as he crumpled like a dry leaf. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He couldn't stop the intermittent, ugly sobs emerging from his muffled mouth. He soaked Kratos' shirt, he soaked his own. He let his father prop him upright until exhaustion overtook him, and he sank into darkness.

* * *

"Lloyd, you need to eat, or you'll never recover."

Lloyd stared at the ceiling. Raine lay the plate on the table next to his bed, and sat down beside him. She reached out and touched his dry cheek.

"Please."

"Okay." He made no move toward his meal.

"Maybe you'd rather eat alone," she said, standing.

"Yeah."

She left him, stopping at the doorway to glance over her shoulder. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.

The soup she had brought him slowly cooled on the table beside the bed. The water sat untouched, his medication beside it. Lloyd stared ahead for a while, breathing slowly, until he was sure that Raine no longer hovered at his doorway. He pulled his tired legs over the side of the bed and hauled himself to his feet. A few dull streaks of pain made their way across his chest, but he ignored them. He slowly made his way to the door, and leaned against it for a few seconds, catching his breath and making sure his trek would go uninterrupted. He slid open the door and leaned out.

The halls of the remote island ranch were brightly lit, empty, and silent. He slipped outside his door, barefoot, shirtless, half his body bandaged tightly. He knew he looked like a wreck, but as long as no one spied him, he'd be able to stay out of that isolated room. He didn't have far to walk before he got to his destination. He leaned against the door and pushed it open, stepping into his mother's room.

She lay silently, in the same place, the same position, she had been days ago when Lloyd first saw her in this state. Her eyelids did not twitch as they usually did when she slept, even her chest didn't rise and fall as it should. Raine had told him that her heart was still beating, but slowly, weakly. They didn't know when it would give out, but the estimate was soon.

He sat at her side, listening to the whirr of the magitech keeping her alive. Kratos had erected a barrier over her, which buzzed with energy, providing enough mana to sustain her for a little while. At least, that's what Yuan said. The magic was too old and too complex for even Raine to figure it out—they assumed that such practices had been lost to the worlds sometime after the Kharlan War, but his father had retained them. It made Lloyd wonder what other powers Kratos may have up his sleeves. Lloyd could only hope that one of those powers was resurrection.

Shortly after he'd recovered from the initial shock of seeing Anna in that state, Lloyd interrogated Raine about it. He learned that after he collapsed, they had rushed back to Heimdall, where they threatened the elven healers into stabilizing both Anna and Lloyd. She failed to mention who did the threatening, but Lloyd could hazard a guess.

It had taken them a while to get back to the base—a journey that would've taken months on foot, weeks on a boat, but mere days in a rheiard. The whole time Kratos had made sure the two of them stayed alive—or within some manageable distance of life. It was hard to tell, with Anna.

"Why… why did Forcystus save us?" Lloyd asked.

Raine frowned. "He didn't want to, initially. It would've been more practical for us to take your exsphere for our own use, and leave you and your mother in the woods. But…"

"Kratos wouldn't let him," Lloyd finished.

"_I _wouldn't let him." She brushed Lloyd's cheek, slightly. "Neither of us were going to leave without you. Forcystus needs us both—he gave in easily enough. I half expected to be court-martialed for standing up to him, but he pardoned me." Her hand slid down the side of his neck, brushed his arm and settled on his exsphere. "He let me keep this on you. I'm fairly sure it saved you. When you were at your worst… when we weren't even sure you were still breathing, it started to glow."

Lloyd looked down at his hand. Even in her current state, his mother worked tirelessly to protect him. Or else, more likely, the exsphere merely acted to keep its host alive. Maybe there was nothing touching or purposeful about the stone—maybe it was all just mere survival.

Lloyd clenched his hand when Raine's fingers wrapped around it. "Forcystus is letting you keep it on until you heal. I did what I could, but you've still got a ways to go."

"And… and my mother?" Lloyd was almost afraid to ask it.

Raine's hopeful gaze darkened, and her face fell. Lloyd was not fond of that look. "It's hard to say, Lloyd. She's been hurt terribly."

"How long until we know?" he asked.

"We might never know. Even if…" Raine took a moment to glance out the small window, as if something outside could give her strength to admit what needed to be said. "Even if she recovers, she will never walk again. It's likely she will be unable to move her arms as well. The bullet severed a crucial part of her spinal cord."

"So if she wakes up… she'll be paralyzed?"

Raine shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I… I should've been there."

Lloyd didn't have the heart to answer her. Perhaps she should've been there. Perhaps she should've gotten to the scene sooner. Perhaps Lloyd shouldn't have gone off in the first place. There were so many variables to dig through, so many places to put the blame.

Every time Raine visited him, she would bring him food. He did not know if she made it herself, since he could no longer taste anything. He never felt hungry, never thirsty, never even tired. It was only when he blinked and the light in the small room drastically changed did he realize he'd fallen asleep at all. He wondered if he was making the transition to an angelic state, and soon he'd resemble his father, silent, unfeeling, forever sleepless and without an appetite.

The pain in his chest did not dull so much as transform. The stinging pain of his bullet wounds gave way to the deep, implacable ache of loss. It was a protean, ubiquitous agony that seemed strangely unphysical. It spread not from his wounds but from the very base of his spine, crawling up his back and diffusing through every muscle. Even his head started to throb when he stayed upright for too long.

He could only stare at his mother for a few minutes before he felt sick to his stomach. He could not hold himself in a sitting position, much less stand, for long. He wished he could stay up with her, talk to her, but he found he had to lie down on the floor by her strange bed. He stared up at the ceiling, lifting his good arm to touch the side of her machine. The preservative barrier Kratos had cast over her prevented him from actually touching her, but he did not ask his father to dispel it. If that was part of the reason she was still somewhat alive, then Lloyd would not interfere. He would be able to touch her when she woke up.

But Lloyd was still unsure if she would want to wake up. He tried to imagine her without her movement, without her usual vivacity. Raine mentioned that there might be some irreversible cranial trauma, or anoxic neuronal degradation. Lloyd did not have the heart to ask what that meant—he could only surmise that it meant Anna might wake up and not be… Anna. She might wake and not remember who any of them were. She might not be able to feed herself, she might not be able to speak, to think, to feel. She might be blind—she might be all of these things. Raine had listed the likelihoods of each outcome, and none of them were good.

"_El__á_," he groaned. He lay on his back; the cold metal felt soothing on his bandages. "What am I going to tell Barra?" He rubbed his head, trying to massage out the sharp pain that collected in his temple. "He'll kill me if he knew I let this happen. But if you recover… if you get better, then we won't need to tell him anything, okay?"

Anna didn't answer. The machines clicked, one let out a soft, mild beep, telling him that everything was as expected. He hoped Anna would prove Raine wrong, for once, and recover fully. But Raine was not often wrong.

He threw his arm over his face, sighing. When he heard the swish of the automatic door, he lifted his head. He exhaled, laying it back down, when he saw it was only Kratos.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Kratos said. "You're supposed to be in your bed."

"I know." When Lloyd made no move to get up, Kratos turned and left.

Lloyd, a little relieved to be alone, and almost relaxed, until the door opened again. In strode Kratos, a bundle of white sheets in hand. It looked like he'd torn them from the bed in the other room.

He walked toward Lloyd, dropping the sheets at his feet. He stopped to stare awhile at Anna, before sitting down next to his son on the cold floor. Lloyd didn't have the strength to tell him to go away. He let Kratos prop his head up on the pillow he'd stolen from the other room. Kratos covered him with the thin sheet—as if that would keep him warm—and reclined beside him.

He didn't say anything. He just lay down and folded his hands over his chest. His eyes wandered to the ceiling, as if anything could be seen up there. Somehow, having Kratos beside him only made the pain that much worse.

After a few minutes of silence, the pressure built up so much Lloyd had to break it. "I feel like there's a knife in my chest," he said. His voice was raspy and out of practice. "It just keeps twisting and twisting, and it won't stop. I can't make it stop. I can't breathe."

Lloyd almost flinched when Kratos extended his hand. But when he opened it, all that lay inside were Lloyd's uneaten painkillers. He glanced angrily down at the two tiny white capsules.

"It's not that kind of pain."

"These aren't just for pain." Kratos' eyes flashed with an honesty Lloyd could not ignore.

"Raine told me…"

"I know she did. But these are sedatives. I think she meant for you to sleep through the next few weeks."

"She wants me to—"

"She's been talking about what we need to to. About Mithos."

"Mithos…" Lloyd muttered.

"I think she wants to spare you. There is a hard battle ahead of us, and we've already taken a loss."

Lloyd snarled. "Is that what my mother is? A casualty?" He shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop anything from leaking between his eyelids. He knew he was doing a poor job.

Kratos reached out and lay a hand on his head, slowly mussing his hair. He might've known Lloyd was only trying to dig at him, to get a rise from him. He seemed so much more calm about this whole development than Lloyd, but then again, he might not be aware of the less than stellar prognoses Raine had divulged to him. Maybe Kratos did not know that Anna would never dance again. Maybe he didn't know she would probably never sing again.

Kratos only held out the pills to Lloyd. "I won't make you take them," he said. "But I think it might be better if you do."

"No," Lloyd said. "I'm staying awake with _el__á__._ I don't know how much longer I'll be able to do that."

Kratos' mouth twisted. "You should've stayed with her," he said quietly. "The night before we released Origin's seal."

"I know," Lloyd answered. "But she sent me after you." He paused for a minute, toying with what he would say next. "Do you think she knew?"

"Knew what?"

"Never mind." Lloyd tried to turn on his side, away from his father, so he wouldn't see the moisture in his eyes.

"It should've been me," Kratos sighed. "It should always be me."

"Yeah…" Lloyd couldn't disagree. It would've been better if Kratos had died, or at least taken the bullets meant for her. Lloyd couldn't help but let out a cynical laugh.

"What is it?"

"The first time I saw her, she'd just woken up from a machine a lot like this," he said. "After… after she turned into a monster and you saved me, they took her and kept her comatose until she recovered."

"Then she will be used to the routine. When she wakes up, she will be fine. Perhaps even a little amused by the recurrence."

Lloyd lost his smile. "No… I don't think she will. The last time, she lost five years of her life."

Kratos reached over and grasped his arm gently. "Do not lose hope."

He found the sentiment inexcusably strange coming from his father. "Hope? What do you know about hope? Didn't you give that up a long time ago, sulking around in Welgaia for fifteen years?"

"I've… since learned my lesson."

Lloyd let out a disbelieving snort and looked back up the side of the bed. He could barely make out his mother's pale face in the reflection of the barrier that hovered above her. "She's… she's not coming back, Kratos. If she does… she'll be different. She won't be able to move. She might not even…"

Kratos sat up, and leaned over Lloyd. He stared down at him. "She'll be fine. Remember, I promised you that I'd help get her back to normal."

Lloyd's lungs seemed to twist around one another, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. Kratos stood, taking a few steps toward the door, purposefully. He did not quite escape before Lloyd's lungs recovered, and he spoke.

"How did you do it, Kratos?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Keep on living, knowing you killed her?"

Kratos stood still for a moment. "You didn't kill her, Lloyd."

"I did. That bullet was meant for me."

Kratos glanced over his shoulder at his son, but didn't bother walking back to him. "You didn't kill her because she's not dead."

Lloyd looked up, lifting his head off the pillow. He didn't have time to read his father's expression before the man left him alone. He just lay back down and resumed staring at the ceiling.

* * *

"He's in a bad way," Sheena said, arms crossed. "I have to say I feel horrible for the guy."

Yuan sighed. "I know. It is only natural to feel some sympathy. But there are more urgent things to worry about. This isn't about Lloyd. This is about the world."

"I know," Sheena answered.

"So, tell me how it went with the summon spirits."

"They were all a little reluctant, to be honest. They knew that making pacts with all of them would drive the worlds apart."

"Yes. But did you manage to recruit them despite their reservations?"

"Yup. All of 'em are with me… except Origin."

"That's understandable. His participation is more than we can reasonably expect at this juncture."

"But I did ask a favor of Efreet when I made my pact with him."

"Oh?"

"He knows Lloyd. At least, from a distance. Turns out the kid broke into his temple a while back. I asked him… if he could put in a good word on our behalf. To Origin. He said he would. Well, a few days back, he told me that Origin said he'd take a good look at him."

"That was generous, considering his immediate rejection of our requests when we went to see him ourselves."

"Well, I hate to say it, but he didn't change his mind. I think he did his thing while Lloyd was asleep."

"How do you know?"

"Well, when the kid woke up, he said Origin still told him he wouldn't help. And while he was asleep, he kept saying strange things, about Mithos and Martel… about you."

"What things?"

"Things he shouldn't know. Shouldn't rightly think about. I think Origin was messing with him in his sleep."

"That does sound like Origin," Yuan sighed. "Although his reluctance, I'm afraid to say, is my fault. We betrayed him the first time we made a pact with him… at least Mithos did. But Kratos and I are partially to blame. We facilitated that betrayal."

"It's too late now to regret things that happened over four thousand years ago," Sheena said.

"You're right. We must now focus on the future." Yuan turned from the window to examine her. She seemed confident, self-assured. It must've been the combined powers of the Sylvaranti and Tethe'allan summon spirits bolstering her will. Yuan could not help but share in that confidence. "We must do what we can without him. The Tree is our priority. You are to stay here, with the cannon, until the time comes."

"How will I know the time comes?" Sheena asked.

"I will send you a message from Derris-Kharlan when we go there. If you receive no message, you will listen to Botta. He will be staying as well, guiding you and the rest of our troops in my stead. I trust him with my life… and by extension, I suppose, I'm trusting you."

Sheena nodded, torso bending in a slight bow. Yuan did not know if it was an instinctive pose, or one of genuine respect, but he knew it was too late to guess now. Sheena's motivations, her dedication to this cause, were all necessarily treated as givens. Yuan could not afford to distrust her—he had no replacement, no backup plan. His life, and the life of the entire world, was in her hands.

"I trust you will not fail me," he told her.

"I won't."

Yuan could not help but glance back at her as he left the room. He wasn't sure if he believed her, but it was too late now to doubt. Mithos would not leave them room for doubt.


	60. The Slow Healing

Raine did not make Lloyd move back to his own room. When she found out he was sleeping at the foot of Anna's bed, among the whirring machines and the loud buzz of the protective magical barrier, she brought him his medicine and meals as usual. She arranged to have a small mattress brought into his room, and would make him lie down on it as she changed his bandages and checked his progress.

"You're doing much better," she said, examining his wounds. "How do you feel?"

Lloyd was unsure how to answer, and he could see Raine's face sink in comprehension. She merely lay her hand on his good shoulder.

"Lloyd… You're doing fine, but I'd prefer if you took your medication."

He shook his head. He had been avoiding taking the pills so he could stay awake with his mother, despite the pain in his shoulder and stomach, and the pain he felt permeate his mind. "As soon as I take enough to fall asleep for a few days, you're all gonna go fight Mithos without me."

"We're not doing it because we want to ditch you," Raine said, a little forcefully. "The more time we spend down here, the more Mithos has to prepare for us. He has only a fraction of his army left, so he can't destroy us as we are now… but who knows what he's plotting up there. He might be tracking us down as we speak." She raised her eyes to the ceiling. "The sooner we strike him, the better."

Lloyd sighed. "I know. I just want to be there when you do."

"You don't need to be. It's not your fight, Lloyd. Leave it to Kratos and me." She graced him with one of her kind smiles. "I need to fight him for Derris-Kharlan. Your father must fight him because he bears some responsibility for him in the first place."

He shook his head, vigorously. "But what about me? Don't I get a chance to pay him back for building the ranches? Don't I get to avenge my mother?"

Raine's smile disappeared. "If you have enough strength… yes, I won't stop you from coming with us. But I also don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm already hurt."

She sighed, laying a hand on his arm. "_More_ hurt. You know what I mean."

"When…" he paused. Half of him didn't want to know the answer to the question. "When are you going to be ready to go up the Tower?"

"Not long from now. Forcystus is arming the troops. We're getting our machines ready, in case Yggdrasill sends down his angels." She closed her eyes, briefly, and her brow furrowed. Lloyd imagined she was watching the forthcoming battle under her eyelids. "We're hoping for a quiet raid. With Kratos to open the Tower, we can send a small team up to dispel the barrier and return before we fire the mana cannon at Vinheim. That way we can avoid most of the defenses Mithos put up around him. But you never know what will happen. We have to be ready for anything."

Lloyd thought of the little boy from his dream, laughing in his sister's arms, and said nothing. "Kvar told me Mithos knows we're coming."

"Of course he does. He's been watching us dismantle his ranches and destroy his army. But he's been quiet lately. I can't help but wonder if he's already fled. Or perhaps he has stopped caring. Maybe he is no longer concerned with the affairs of the worlds below him."

"We can hope," Lloyd said. "That'll make our job a lot easier."

"I'm not sure it would. A man with nothing to lose is a dangerous one." Raine paused, her eyes wandering to Anna, lying silently in what Lloyd had come to think of as her mechanical coffin. "I would not blame you if you came with us, but please, leave fighting Mithos to the rest of us."

Lloyd gave her his strongest look. "No," he said.

"If you think you are ready by the time we leave, then I won't stop you. But please, know your own limits. You've been badly hurt."

Lloyd smiled weakly and touched her cheek. "So has the whole world, Raine. I'm nothing special."

"That's true," she admitted. She stayed silent for a while. The furrowing of her brows told Lloyd she was toying with something she wanted to say. "What are you going to do… about Anna?"

Lloyd's stomach turned a little at the mere mention of his mother. "I don't know. I honestly don't."

Raine glanced up at the bed where she lay, motionless, dreamless. "Her chances are not good, Lloyd. It's likely she'll never wake up. It's even more likely that she'll go by herself one of these days."

Anger boiled in Lloyd's throat, but he bit his lip.

"If it were up to me… I'd let her go."

"How can you say that?" Lloyd burst out. "She's my mother! I can't let her die."

"Remember, you're not the only one who's lost someone close to you."

Lloyd stared into her cold eyes, redirecting his anger toward himself. How could he expect Raine to tell him anything other than the bitter truth? That's what he kept her around for—to make sure he stayed realistic, logical. He raised a palm to his cheek and wiped away a tear before it could make its way down his face.

"She's already dead, isn't she?" Lloyd muttered. "She might as well be."

Raine's hand found his and she squeezed it tight. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I truly am. I know how hard it is."

In her face, Lloyd could imagine the echoes of her family. Her little brother's wide smile, her father's kindness, perhaps a little of her mother's passion. He thought of all of them coming for her, reaching out to her, in her dreams, and couldn't help but tug her close. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her and held her, burying his face in her hair. He felt the elegant curve of her elven ear against his nose.

She embraced him back, squeezing him only as tightly as his injuries would allow. "Things will get better. It might be slow, but you will one day stop grieving and start again with your life. Time is the best medicine."

"Is that how you coped, after your brother died?"

"Oh, I did all sorts of things I regret. Helping track down the man who killed him, for one. Putting him in the ranch. It took me a while, but… one day I woke up and realized that the world was not getting any better with me as a ranch officer. I decided that Genis would've wanted me to try to prevent things like that from happening again. No… I will not put words in the mouths of the dead. _I_ wanted to make sure nothing like that would ever happen again. So I requested to be transferred to the mana cannon team. I believed Forcystus, I believed the solutions he prescribed for prejudice were going to be the most effective. I believed him when he told me separating the races was for the best."

"Do… do you think _el__á_ would want me to help you get home?"

Raine pulled away, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and forcing him to look into her face. "Listen, Lloyd. It doesn't _matter_ what she thinks. She's not thinking at all. What matters now is what you think." Lloyd gulped. "Life is for the living. You're here now, and she's already halfway into the next world. She has no power over your actions now."

If only Raine knew. If only she knew the pair of eyes Lloyd could feel on his back, watching him. If only she knew he could hear his mother listening closely, keeping an eye on him. Anna would want him to go back to the desert, to resume his life. She would want him to do what he wanted to do. She would want him to do many things, all contradictory. But perhaps Raine was right. Anna could not stop him. Only he could stop himself, using Anna as an excuse.

"I'm coming with you," he said. "I'm going to come up to Derris-Kharlan and defeat Mithos."

"And I will protect you," she answered. She kissed his forehead, lightly, lingering there for a few seconds. "So now, you must do your best to recover. You have to eat. You have to sleep. You have to let your mother rest, alone."

Lloyd gulped. "But what if she dies when I'm not here?"

Raine stood, helping him off the floor. "She will go when she goes. Unless, of course, you take control and release the barrier. She will die, but at least you will know when."

Lloyd's heart sank, his legs seemed to turn to jelly under him, but he managed to follow Raine out the door. She held him upright by the elbow, tugging him out the door when he dared to linger, looking over his shoulder one last time at his mother.

* * *

"You look well," Yuan told Lloyd. He paused for a second before appending: "Considering the circumstances."

Lloyd smiled slightly, stretching his arm. He could move his shoulder around now, with a little help from his medications—Raine, now sure she couldn't trick him into sleeping for a week or so while they finished their business, replaced his sedatives with pills that didn't make him pass out an hour after he took them. His bandages had been removed. Raine would sit at his bedside and let blue magic gather at her fingertips, laying them on his skin almost every day to speed up his recovery.

They had been making preparations without him. But now that he could walk on his own, stay awake for hours at a time, and dare to leave his mother's side, they let him contribute. Botta even let him work on some of the rheiards they would take to the Tower, once Kratos opened it for them. When Lloyd was on his back, beneath a rheiard engine, he almost felt normal. He could sink into the darkness of oil and smoke and imagine that he was back in Triet, that his mother was at the fruit stand on the other side of the bazaar, setting aside the ugly and unsellable individuals to chop up for lunch. In an hour or so, when the Renegades would take their newly-fixed engine back out into the desert, he would hang around at the fruit stand, wiping his filthy hands on his pants. Anna would scold him about washing the oil off before he ate, but he wouldn't listen to her. She would know that by this point, if she poked him, he'd bleed motor oil.

He did not want to think about how when he went back to Triet, he would have to go without her. Barra would kill him. But he knew he might be thinking too far into the future. He still didn't know if he would make it back from Derris-Kharlan.

Yuan was the one who made preparations for the whole thing. Kratos was still distracted by the sate of his wife, and Forcystus had never actually been qualified to ascend the Tower up to Welgaia. Only Pronyma, the Seraphim and Mithos himself could pass freely. Everyone else needed an explicit invite—or needed to already belong to the club of Lifeless Beings. So it fell to the former Seraphim to get everyone ready.

"Lloyd, are you sure you want to come with us?" Yuan asked. "You seem to be healing well… but—well, considering the recent events—"

"You mean _el__á_?" Lloyd said, a little tired of Yuan's equivocations.

The man nodded. "You don't hide your grief well. Your father is the same way. He tries his best to keep a hard exterior, but I know him too well. He's far worse off than you seem to be."

Lloyd closed his eyes, sighing. "He's… so sure that _el__á _is going to live. That she's still alive. He doesn't listen to what I tell him, to what Raine tells him. I'm afraid he'll force her to live, even if she can't speak or move."

"That would be hell for a woman like her," Yuan admitted. Lloyd didn't ask how he would know—Anna made it obvious. Lloyd averted his eyes, and Yuan reached out and lay a hand on his shoulder. Lloyd froze, unsure how to react. "Look. I know what you must feel. But… you must know something. Martel has been kept in the same state as your mother."

"What?"

"She went the same way your mother did: protecting those she loved. There is no better way to die—but Mithos would not let her go." Lloyd remembered the scene, with Martel draped over her brother's knee, staring blankly. "She is suffering, greatly. I know it. I can feel it. We've forced her to watch us split the world, sow discord and destroy lives. We've crushed cities, killed millions, set half the world on fire, all for her sake. And I honestly believe—though I didn't at the time—that she would be much better off dead. All we have done for her is prolong her suffering in the hopes that she might one day wake up."

Lloyd's heart fluttered a little in his throat, and he suddenly felt sick.

Yuan squeezed his shoulder. "Immortality taught me many things, but this is the most important: death is a privilege."

Lloyd looked up into Yuan's old, tired eyes, and knew he told the truth. "Why are you being so… nice?" he asked.

Yuan's usual raptorial smirk gave way to a soft grin. Lloyd's heart skipped a beat as he was brought back to his strange dream. The Yuan before him now resembled the Yuan from back then more closely than he'd ever imagined. Lloyd's mind conjured an image of the half-elf asleep in the light of the double moons, blanket bunched up under his chin, feet poking out of the bottom, bare and white. Lloyd couldn't help but smile back.

"Why am I being so nice?" Yuan said. "I suppose it's because I'm a nice person."

"I don't believe that for a moment." Lloyd's eyes wandered to Yuan's hand on his shoulder, a thin silver ring on his finger. He could barely make out a two letters on its curved side, but he didn't have time to pry.

"You want to know one of the biggest reasons I saved Kratos?" Yuan asked, almost playfully.

Lloyd crossed his arms. "Because we need him to help us fight Mithos."

Yuan shook his head. "Besides that. There's another."

"What?"

Yuan's eyes sparkled, just a little. "Because I'm your godfather."

Lloyd burst out laughing. He lowered his arms to his knees and leaned on them, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "Oh, that's a good one."

"It's true. If your father had died, I would've been stuck taking care of you, at least for the next little while. I didn't want that."

Lloyd wiped a tear. "Imagine that. Hah, gods, Yuan, if you were my godfather, why didn't you come to Triet once in a while and visit me? You were practically next door."

"First of all, I wasn't sure of your existence. That is a substantial barrier. Besides, if I'd known you were in Triet, no doubt I would've snatched you up and used you as bait for Kratos. It was probably better that we didn't meet."

"Yeah, I guess my childhood had enough interruptions already." Lloyd lowered his eyes. "Hey, Yuan…"

"Yes?"

"About Martel."

"I've made up my mind about her." Yuan turned, evidently finished with the topic. "It's you who has to make up your mind." Before Lloyd could reach out to stop him, he walked away. His cape billowed out behind him in an almost matter-of-fact way, and Lloyd didn't follow him.

Instead he left their private hall and slowly made his way back to a more familiar part of the ranch. Lloyd supposed it wasn't so much of a ranch anymore, rather a base of operations, but whenever he walked past the empty cells, the unused bathing chambers, the exsphere extraction facility, the building's past seemed to come back to life. He ignored the strange echoes of the ranch, and made his way all the way down the halls, to his mother's chamber.

For the first time in a long while, he knew what he had to do. He stepped toward her and knelt at her side. He was unable to break through the barrier to touch her, but he didn't mind. He might have time for that later.

"Hey, _el__á_," he said. Her pale face remained still at the greeting. "I'm going to ask Kratos to let you go." He leaned as close to the barrier as he could. "I'm sorry, but I know you'd probably want it that way." He paused, doubt creeping back into his mind. He banished it, telling himself that he had to go one way or the other. "I'm going to fix the world. I'm going to help Raine get home. I'm going to make sure there are no more incidents like this. All the Cardinals are dead, all the ranches destroyed. Yggdrasill is the only one left. I… maybe you'd be proud of me if I defeated him. I don't know."

He sat by her side, silent awhile. He didn't know how many times he'd get to see her again before they all left for Derris-Kharlan. He knew he should enjoy his time with her while he could. Before he…

"Hey, _el__á_. I learned a new song. I think you'd like it—it reminds me of those drinking songs from Palmacosta. I just have to remember how it goes…" He thought for a moment. He'd left his oud in the ranch somewhere, and he still hadn't found it. So he'd have to wing it a cappella. "It's something about a woman and her two-timing husband, and her kid. Sorta reminded me of you. I can't remember the words. But it kinda goes like—" He hummed the tune to her. He tapped his foot to the quick, lively beat. He whistled the parts where Mithos came in with his pan flute. He muttered through some of the lyrics he couldn't remember, and hummed through the bridge. He watched her closely, looking for any twitch of an eyelid or curl of her mouth that would show him she could hear him. There were no signs of life, no sign of comprehension, so he just chugged along through the song, stumbling in some parts, providing commentary in others. Miraculously he got to the end in a timely fashion. "But promise me one thing, just one, boy of mine, don't turn out like your dad."

Lloyd chuckled a little on Anna's behalf. He tried not to sound too disappointed that she couldn't hear a thing, but couldn't help end his laugh in a tired sigh. His ears perked up when he heard the click of a boot on the floor. He certainly hadn't noticed the door open.

"How do you know that song?" Kratos asked.

Lloyd bit his lip, wondering if he should just tell him the truth. "Martel sang it," he said.

"I know she did. I'm asking how you learned it."

Lloyd shrugged and smiled a little. "I don't really know. I'm a good guesser—maybe I just guessed all the lyrics at once."

Kratos knelt beside him, staring at Anna. He lay a hand on Lloyd's back, gently. "You're acting somewhat mysterious, Lloyd."

"You're one to talk." They both fell silent, gazes wandering back to Anna. "Hey Kratos. I think… I think we should lift the barrier."

"But then she'll—"

"I know." Lloyd sighed.

Kratos sat silently for a moment, and dropped his hand from Lloyd's back. "You don't think she's going to pull through."

Lloyd shook his head. "Raine says—"

"Do you always listen to Raine?" Kratos asked.

Lloyd flinched a little, taken aback. "Yeah. Listening to her is what kept me alive for this long—especially after you ditched me." That old, familiar anger rose in his stomach. "She helped me after you screwed me over. After you kidnapped _el__á_ and put her in a ranch. Of course I'm going to listen to her. Especially over you." He stood. "Lift the barrier, Kratos. Or I'll get Yuan to do it."

His father didn't reply. He knelt, still as stone, next to Anna, as Lloyd strode across the room. He opened the door and stepped outside, quickly closing it behind him before his father could see his eyes tear up.

* * *

Night fell over the ranch swiftly. The Renegade and Desian workers were so busy with preparations for the raid on Derris-Kharlan, none of them even noticed the darkening sky. They didn't notice that they had all skipped dinner, that the clocks on the ranch walls were approaching midnight. They certainly didn't notice Kratos as he swept silently through down the hall to Anna's chamber.

He opened the door in a swish, and stepped inside. He hadn't been followed, hadn't been noticed. Forcystus and Yuan were up in the command center, devising a strategy. Lloyd and Raine were readying the cannon. Botta was preparing the rheiards. And Kratos was alone, standing over the body of his wife, frowning.

She did not look dead. Kratos had seen enough people die in his lifetime to know that she was still well within the realm of the living. Lloyd had not nearly as much experience in the matter. Still, Kratos had to admit Lloyd had a point. He could tell that if Anna awoke, she would not be the same. It didn't matter. There was a chance things would turn out all right, with the resources he had at his disposal.

He had made Lloyd a promise, and he would keep it. He had broken so many promises already, destroyed so many hopes, including his own. He would not do it again. He bent down to his wife, raised his hand, and dispelled the preservative barrier.

"Hold on, Anna," he muttered, lifting her gently from her bed. "It will only be for a little while." She seemed so light, so still. She was no longer the woman she had been so recently, when she came to him in the Ymir forest.

Kratos had been in his usual, aware state, after everyone else had gone to sleep. Yuan was out of sight somewhere on the other end of camp, no doubt sleepless. Kratos stepped out into the trees a ways, hoping to get away from the cacophonous noise of all that ragged breath, all the hearts rushing when stressful dreams took hold of the troops. Even Forcystus had fidgeted in his sleep, no doubt anticipating the ordeal with Origin.

He had heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned to see Anna, cast in shadow, standing behind him. He could see her smile in the dim light. "Lloyd's asleep," she said quietly. "We have half an hour to make him a little sibling."

Kratos had laughed, quietly, sincerely. She had said that to him often, when Lloyd was little and perpetually sobbing. He did not often want to go to sleep, but when he did, he was out like a light. Kratos and Anna found enough time for each other when that happened.

She reached out and took him by the hand, leading him father into the forest. "Maybe this isn't the best place," she admitted. "But I don't know if you'll live through tomorrow."

"Anna…" He started, but she shushed him with a kiss. She held his face, leaning up to him, tipping herself up on the balls of her feet, just like she used to. He melted in her arms, as he always did, acquiescing fully to her every need. He reverted to the state he'd been in when they first met, when they first started running from the Desians—he could deny her nothing, only hope that she would stay with him, resting in his arms until the morning.

When she pulled away from him, breathless, she smiled widely. "Just like old times, isn't it?" she asked. "Sneaking off into the forest… pulling spiders from one another's hair."

Kratos smiled. "They were good times, weren't they?"

"In retrospect. At the time… well, we didn't know how much worse it could get."

He pulled her close, kissing her forehead. "I don't want to leave you," he muttered.

"Then don't. I don't mind you sticking around. And you and Lloyd are no longer at one another's throats… so I guess he'll have to deal with it."

"I guess he will."

Anna looked up at him, her dark eyes shining in the dim light. They seemed to produce light rather than reflect it. "Whatever you choose, make sure Lloyd will approve of it."

"What about you? What do you want?"

"Me?" She closed her eyes, thinking for a second. "I want to ditch this whole world-saving fiasco and run off to the vineyards of Altamira. I want you to take me all around Thethe'alla and buy me the best wine we can afford. We'll drink all day and make love all night."

"What about Lloyd?"

Anna chuckled. "He wouldn't _want_ to even know about our exploits. No… he wants to save the world, Kratos. And despite what you think, I believe in him. It'll be hard, but he's his own man now. He can't have his parents hanging around and judging his every decision."

"You're… right," Kratos had to admit.

"I'm always right," she had answered, before kissing him again.

But she had not been right to follow their son into the forest. She had not been right to think she could save him herself, without summoning the rest of them. The first moment they realized anything had gone remotely wrong was when a gunshot rang through the trees. Kratos had been hazy, debilitated from releasing the seal. His senses were not in their usual keen state. The whole ordeal had been somewhat of a blur, but he remembered dashing through the trees, drawing his sword, when he heard the first shot. It surprised him how quickly he regained his senses, control of his feet. The moment he saw Kvar's face, he had sliced it open.

He did not even dare to look at what the man had done to his family. He had found Kvar, he had killed Kvar. Swiftly, without mercy. He doubted the deranged Desian even had a grasp of what was going on before he died. Before Kvar's body even hit the ground, he had dropped his bloodied sword and rushed back to Lloyd. He saw the rest of the party, gathered around what he then thought to be the bodies of his wife and son.

Things had changed so fast. Every hope had evaporated, and he couldn't help but think back to the threat Pronyma had made to him so long ago. _Losing a family once would be enough for any man. __Twice, I can__'__t imagine._

Kratos couldn't imagine, either. He had tried his best when he learned the two were still barely clinging to life. But he knew this was his punishment. Back in the forest, with Anna, he'd had the hubris to let himself think that things could go back to normal, that they could pick up where they left off. Maybe that had been his ultimate mistake. Maybe that's why now, holding his near-dead wife in his arms, he was being punished.

He looked down at her white face, lifelessly still. "I know I told you I'd be able to give you up for Lloyd's sake… I lied." He tugged her tightly to him, closely listening for her weak heartbeat, the meanderings of air that passed for breath in her lungs. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm as weak as I've always been."

But Kratos had learned something. He was intent on fixing his mistakes. He had run for so many years, appeased superior powers in the hopes that they would grant him and his family mercy. No more. If he could do one last thing for Lloyd, he would set all this right.

Making sure he was not spotted or followed, Kratos carefully carried his wife through the dark, empty halls. Well before sunrise, when the base had fallen into inactivity, Kratos slipped out the maintenance door and disappeared into the night.


	61. Back Where We Started

"I know where he's taken her," Yuan said. After the news of Kratos' departure, all assembled in the command deck. With the seraph gone, they had lost their free ticket to the Tower, and few were happy about it.

Everyone looked over at Yuan. Lloyd tried to interpret his expression, but couldn't. He seemed distressed, determined, and almost satisfied.

"Where?" Lloyd asked.

"He's taken her to the top of the Tower. Between Derris-Kharlan and our world."

"Well, let's follow him."

Yuan shook his head. "I will see what I can do. But I suspect that if Kratos ascended the Tower, he has closed it behind him." Yuan looked over at Lloyd, frowning. "I will take some of my troops and go to the Tower. If it's open, I'll ascend. If not, I'll hold my place until you break the barrier."

"We'll need the mana cannon for that," Raine said.

"So, we will have to waste our shot on shattering the barrier between here and Derris-Kharlan?" Forcystus asked.

"It's possible," Yuan replied. "Like I said, I will go on ahead and inform you if the way is open. I doubt it, but you never know."

Yuan stood, a sense of urgency about him. As he swept past the table, out into the hall, Forcystus called after him, "Don't fail us, Yuan."

Yuan disappeared into the depths of the facility, leaving the rest of them enmeshed in an anxious silence. Forcystus broke it when he stood up, cracking his knuckles. "A minor setback. We will resume work as usual. As soon as Yuan sends word of his situation at the Tower, we move out."

"Sir," Raine started. "If the Tower is closed, we have no way of getting up to Derris-Kharlan, apart from—"

"I know, Lieutenant." Forcystus eyed the rest of them, one by one.

"What's he talking about?" Lloyd asked. He wasn't thinking clearly, not so much due to his injuries—he was most definitely on the proper side of recovery—but because of the confused haze that had overtaken his mind when he'd found out both of his parents went missing. He was trying to piece together the reason his father would run off with his mother's body, and trying to juggle the tasks and problems of the day. He mostly failed.

Raine was always by his side, though, willing to answer his questions. "The reason you've never seen Derris-Kharlan from the ground is because of Mithos' barrier. That is the blue sky you've grown up under." She sighed. "And it needs to go if we want a clear shot at Vindheim. Zelos could've broken it for us, your father could've broken it for us, but now we're missing both of them. If Kratos hasn't left us a clear passage, we might have to use the cannon to dispel the barrier."

"I would prefer not to," Forcystus said. "I'd much rather save our one big shot for Mithos himself. But if it comes down to it, we can break the barrier and go up there ourselves to defeat him." The Desian rubbed his forehead. "I suppose if Kratos dispels the barrier while he's up there, we can still aim for Vinheim. But as it is, we'll probably have to face whatever defenses Mithos has put up for himself. I was hoping to avoid that."

"Either way, Lloyd, we need your exsphere to fire the shot." Secretly, under the table, the tip of Raine's finger touched the little stone on his hand. It pulsated in response.

Lloyd nodded. "I know." He had told himself to prepare for this day, when they would need his exsphere more than he did, when the fate of the two worlds would depend on it. But he felt strangely, selfishly reluctant. He did not want to give away his mother's stone, the final remnant he had of her. He did not know if the exsphere would survive the shot. Raine said it was unlikely, since the cannon operated by draining the mana from the stone.

"So," Forcystus continued, not noticing, or perhaps merely ignoring, Lloyd and Raine's awkward silence. "We proceed as usual. Lloyd, get to the rheiard bay. Lieutenant, get the cannon ready. Sheena," his eyes settled on the summoner. "Make yourself useful. We have a lot of work to do."

Forcystus dismissed all of them. Sheena followed them out, shrugging. Now that she had no one to protect, and the man who usually gave her orders had run off on his own, she had nothing to do but follow Lloyd down the hall. When he and Raine parted, she to the cannon, he to the rheiard bay, Sheena followed him. She trotted up next to him, arms folded.

"I'm going downstairs with you," she told him, as if he couldn't already see that. "Botta's down there, right? I need to talk to him."

"Yeah, he's down there. He's overseeing the transportation for the mission. What do you wanna see him for?"

"Oh, just… logistics."

"Uh-huh," Lloyd raised an eyebrow. Perhaps now that Yuan had left, Botta was the one who gave her orders. But the way she equivocated made him suspect she might want to see him for reasons she'd not wish to divulge. An inappropriately scandalous part of him wondered if they were an item. "He's usually in the overseer's chamber," he told her. He tried to hide the tiny smile that crossed his face when he thought of them exchanging loving caresses. It was a little too funny for him.

"Thanks," Sheena said, perhaps suspicious of his sudden simper.

When they got to the rheiard bay, Sheena disappeared before Lloyd could even notice. He remained unsurprised by her sudden entrances and exits. From the very first time he'd met her, when she appeared from the shadows to kill the Chosen, she had managed to slip in and out of view practically unnoticed. Lloyd figured that's why Raine valued her skills as much as she did.

Lloyd located the project he was working on and knelt by it. He wasn't sure if he could salvage this particular engine, but they would need as many rheiards as possible if they wanted to bring the troops with them. And, if Yuan told the truth when he said Mithos had an entire army of angels at his disposal, they would need an army of their own.

Only a few minutes after Sheena disappeared, she rematerialized beside him. He lay on his back, staring into the whirring belly of the machine, when she cast her shadow over him.

He tore himself away from his work, surprised her date had been so short. Perhaps Botta was not the most romantic of men—he didn't strike Lloyd as being particularly devoted.

"Can I help you?" Sheena asked. "I have nothing else to do."

"Sure. Hey, you can hand me tools when I ask you to," he said.

"So I can be your machine nurse?"

"Something like that. Hey, hand me that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing that looks like a wrench but it's longer and has that thing on the opposite side of it—it has a name, but I forgot."

After a minute of searching and guessing, Sheena found the right one and handed it over. "This is gonna be a long process, huh?"

Lloyd smiled a little, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He didn't need Sheena to tell him he left an oil stain in its place. "Yeah. It is. Unless we both learn the names of tools real fast."

Sheena laughed and sat down next to him. "So…" Lloyd couldn't see her past the motor but he could practically hear her lose her smile. "They're going to use your exsphere for the cannon, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. Raine told me it was your mother's."

"Yeah." Lloyd turned a crank. "Hand me that other thing." Sheena reached over and dropped a screwdriver in his hand. He went back to work.

"So, how does it work? I mean, using exspheres as a power source."

"Energy conversion is more Raine's department," he answered. "You're gonna have to ask her." A drop of oil fell onto his shirt, staining it.

"Oh, okay." Sheena fell silent. "Lloyd, I want you to be careful up there, when you go."

Lloyd sat up, slowly, careful not to smack his head on any part of the machine, as he was always liable to do. "You're not coming with us?" He figured Raine might vouch for her company, considering her consummate skill in stealth.

"No, I'm supposed to stay here with the cannon," she answered. "Botta's orders."

"As long as Forcystus doesn't have a problem with it."

She swallowed. "Make sure you come down from there safe and sound."

Lloyd smiled crookedly. "Yeah, sure. Are you planning for something to go wrong up there?"

Sheena grimaced. "No. I just… It's scary to think that all of you are gonna be on… another planet."

"Huh. I never thought about it that way, I guess. But I've been there and back before. It'll work out." He stood up and brushed himself off. "You want some lunch?"

"Uh, sure." She followed him out of the rheiard bay and to the small, crowded cafeteria. He looked around for Raine, and figured she was skipping lunch again. She often prioritized work on the cannon to eating or sleeping. Sometimes, if he went to work with her, he'd carry a few snacks in his pocket—easily handled things, like carrots or bread. He'd have to lift up her welding mask or whatever protection she wore and feed her while she raised her oily, solder-covered gloves away from the food. He liked those meals the best.

Sheena ate silently across from him, her eyes wandering around the mess hall. Lloyd could not tell what she was thinking, until she put her food down. "How many people are going with you?" she asked.

"I don't know yet. You worried you won't have enough company down here?"

She shook her head. "Just wondering." She stood up, seemingly uninterested in the rest of her meal.

"Where are you going?" Lloyd asked her.

"Nowhere, really. I'll… see you around."

Without another word, she left the hall and disappeared through the wide doorway. Her figure was lost in the sea of soldiers, going about their duties or coming in for a meal.

* * *

That night, well past the hour when Lloyd usually fell asleep, he stared at the ceiling, hands folded across his chest. Raine stirred beside him, lifting her head. She yawned, laying her chin on his shoulder. "Do you need something to help you sleep?" she asked.

"No… I don't know." He sighed, lifting his arm so she could worm next to him and lay her head on it. He rested his hand against her, pulling her a little closer.

"You're worried about your mother?" Raine asked.

"Yeah, I guess… although I know I shouldn't be." He rested his hand over his face, muffling his voice with his palm. "I was so sure I'd accepted that she was gone. I _know_ she's not coming back. But… why? Why did my father take her?"

"Think critically about it, Lloyd."

"Okay…" Lloyd tried to get his tired brain to crank into gear. "He's not going to bury her. I can't think of anywhere to do that on Derris-Kharlan. He might… Yuan said he knew where he was taking her. So that means he had some idea of what he was planning."

"Yes? Did you ask him about it?"

"I didn't have time. He took off so fast—before I really knew what was going on. But… Yuan told me that _elá_ was in the same state Martel was in when they tried to save her. Which means whatever Kratos is doing, it probably involves Martel."

"Good," Raine said. "Keep following that thought."

"He's going to… he's going to try whatever Mithos is trying with Martel. He's going to try to bring her back." Lloyd paused and looked over at Raine. "Did you know that was what he was doing?"

"I hadn't a clue," she said. "You've convinced me, though."

"Shit," Lloyd muttered. He squeezed her tight. He wondered what he would do when he got up there. Perhaps Anna would already be alive and well, perhaps she would greet him as she usually, did with one and a half open arms. She might kiss him on the forehead and tell him it was all over. She might take him in her arm and lead him back to the world below, take him back to the desert and start everything all over. "I… I'm afraid I won't stop him."

"I would understand if you didn't."

"But that's what we're going to do to Martel. We're going to let her die, so that you guys can move to Derris-Kharlan and the rest of us can have more mana. If Kratos takes all the mana meant for Martel and gives it to _elá_, the world still has the same problem."

"Lloyd…" Raine brushed his cheek with her finger. "If it comes down to it, and you can't make that decision, I'll make it for you."

* * *

In the morning, Botta's communicator wailed so loud the whole rheiard bay heard it. When he came bursting out of the surveyor's room, little device in hand, a frown on his face, Lloyd knew that Yuan had found the Tower closed. He was not surprised when, an hour or so later, Forcystus made the base-wide announcement that the mana cannon would be fired immediately.

Lloyd reported to the command center when he was called. One hand cradled the other, touching the smooth curve of the exsphere that lay on it. Raine, Sheena, Botta and Forcystus waited for him in front of the giant window. The familiar barrel of the mana cannon stretched out over the shining sea. Lloyd gulped, thinking of all the months of failure and sabotage. A part of him half expected the cannon to fall apart right now, and for Raine to send him out there to put it back together.

"Lloyd." Forcystus' strong voice ripped him away from his self-sabotaging fantasies. He glanced to the Cardinal, who held out his hand, large and commanding. Lloyd glanced from Forcystus to Raine, and pulled his exsphere off. As the stone left his skin, he felt strength seep from him. His hand shook as he handed the thing over to Forcystus.

The half-elf's fingers closed around it, and he turned. He strode up to the command deck and handed it to Raine. She looked down at the tiny stone for a second, then back up at Lloyd, before heading to an apparatus in the corner. She slid open the metal sheath and her hand disappeared into the mess of wires. A loud, firm click resounded through the room.

Raine turned, and nodded to Forcystus. "It's connected."

"Good. Get the cannon ready."

Raine situated herself above the control panel, clicking away at the various buttons. Lloyd walked closer to the window, getting a better look at the giant cannon hovering above the water. He swallowed a lump in his throat as a sphere of light gathered at its tip.

"Halfway there," Raine said.

This was the third time Lloyd had witnessed the cannon power up, and the first two had ended less than wonderfully. He only hoped that this time, with his exsphere providing the power, it would fire. He clenched his fists and pressed himself up against the window, wishing fervently. It had to work. It _needed_ to work.

The whole base trembled with energy. A loud grumble consumed the room. He glanced behind him to see Raine turn her head and shout a few things at her superior officers, but he couldn't hear anything above the roar of sheer power.

A strange smell overpowered his other senses—he recognized it, but couldn't tell where from. The familiar, mysterious scent got so strong it bordered on putrid, but Lloyd endured, returning his gaze to the trembling cannon. The light gathering at its end intensified, shining brighter than the reflections of the sun on the water. Lloyd squinted, shading his eyes while intently trying to watch what was going on. Everything shook, everything was so bright, he lost track of the countdown, he couldn't see…

Then all went strangely silent. For a fraction of a second, everything was still. The base stopped shaking, the light at the end of the cannon went out. It only lasted long enough for Lloyd's heart to skip a beat.

Then the surge of power knocked him off his feet. He flew backward, away from the window, throwing his arms out to catch himself. A deafening boom roared through the room, undulating the window until a crack spread from its base upward. Lloyd covered his head, giving into his instincts, but when the glass did not shatter, when the whole building didn't crumble into dust, he slowly stood. He let his hands fall to his side and glimpsed a glowing white ball of energetic light fly toward the horizon. It arced upward, curving against the sky, before it disappeared.

Lloyd had no doubt the explosion that followed could be heard around the planet. A thin strip of light seared the horizon, and the blue sky fell away, revealing a vast, violet glow. Lloyd pressed himself to what remained of the window, drinking in the unnerving, oddly beautiful surface of Derris-Kharlan as it revealed itself to the worlds below.

"There it is." Raine's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. The purple sky reflected brightly in her eyes as she stepped up beside him, staring into the distance. "There's our home."

Forcystus appeared beside her, equally enthralled. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" he said quietly.

She blinked, once, twice, the fire leaving her eyes. "Sir," she said, and he tore his gaze away from the too-near planet. "What are your orders?"

A thin, strained smile passed over his face. "Check the Angelus exsphere to see if we have another shot. Botta, you contact Yuan, see if he lived through that catastrophic brilliance. We move out before sunset."

It was difficult to tell when sunset would arrive, since the mass of Derris-Kharlan floated in the way. Lloyd did not bother to ask—they would tell him when it was time to go. The soldiers in the room, including Botta and Sheena, all scattered to perform their various duties.

Raine returned to the control apparatus and removed his exsphere. She looked it over, frowned sadly, and handed it to him. It fell into his palm, grayish, more dead than alive. A thick crack spread from its edge to the center. There was no glow left in the little stone.

"I'm afraid that's all we're going to get out of it," Raine told him. "It performed spectacularly."

Lloyd nodded, and returned the exsphere to his hand. It snapped into the key crest as it always had, but there was no surge of comfort, no glow, no warmth, no energy left. It lay inactive, useless, dead. He looked down at it, realizing that he could no longer rely on the stone's strength—his mother's strength. He would have to rely on his own.

Raine followed his gaze to his hand. "We'll get you another one," she said. "You'll need one if you're coming to Derris-Kharlan."

He shook his head. "I'm keeping this one."

"Lloyd… it's dangerous. Going with that is like going without an exsphere at all." She paused, reading the stubborn frown on his face. "Don't endanger yourself for the sake of a relic." She looked over her shoulder, to make sure that they were now sufficiently alone in the command room, before taking his hand. "You need to stay alive. For me."

He nodded. "I know. But you'll protect me, right?"

She smiled weakly. "Of course. But…"

"What, you don't have faith in yourself?"

She shook her head, squeezing his palm and leading him toward the elevator door. "There's no convincing you of anything, is there?"

"Not really, no." He managed to steal a kiss before the elevator doors opened and they had to rush out, joining the ranks of the thousands of faceless soldiers. They made their way to the armory to get equipped before the whole raid started.

Lloyd pulled on his uniform, and armor over it. He still detested the garments, and wished he would've brought his desert garb. But as Raine snapped his breastplate on, helping him with the buckles, he knew this was his only choice.

Botta met them in the rheiard bay, with the news that Yuan would be waiting for them at the base of the Tower. He had suffered few casualties, and was ready to meet up and ascend to Derris-Kharlan. Botta wished them every ounce of good will as they took off in formation, screaming toward the violet horizon.

_This is it_, Lloyd thought to himself. _We__'__re finally doing it_. As the stratospheric wind hissed through his hair, soaring under the wings of the rheiard, he clutched at Raine's sides. He realized he was one step closer to losing her. He gulped, vowing to at least hold her now, while he still had her here. He gripped her tightly as the rheiard danced up into the deepest stretch of purple sky, toward the Tower of Salvation.


End file.
